Chapter Text
If one were to ask Peter Parker to pick a word to describe his life, his first choice would be...spectacular. The adjective is inherently positive, and sounds really fucking awesome in front of his hero name. The Spectacular Spider-Man—pretty catchy if he says so himself.
And of course, it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact he’d asked Karen that exact question an hour prior and in the process learned of the AI’s adoration of alliteration. It’s simply what his answer would be.
Or would have been, had he been asked an hour ago.
An hour ago, he was flying out the door and down the steps of Midtown High amid a swarm of like-minded teens, Ned and MJ hot on his heels. With the shrill ring of the final bell came the freedom of summer vacation. No more tests or lectures or Flash for two months. Two months of time to spend building Lego sets with Ned, or patrolling Queens as Spider-Man with his Pair in the Chair and Karen keeping him abreast of crimes in progress he hasn’t yet seen. Two months of promised training and suit-upgrade brainstorm sessions with Tony Stark during the billionaire’s (unfairly plentiful) free time. An hour ago, Peter Parker was definitely feeling spectacular .
Right now? He just feels sore.
A new villain had appeared calling himself the Rhino--and not for nothing, as Peter learned. Far too much of the fight had been spent getting well acquainted with the behemoth’s crushing grip and unforgiving fists. While Peter has taken far worse, he and his ribs would’ve preferred to not have taken it at all.
“Incoming call from Mr. Stark, Peter. Would you like to answer? ” Karen intones. Peter groans from where he leans against the thoroughly webbed villain because he so wants to have this conversation right now. But ignoring Tony Stark only leads to an even greater earful later or worse--Tony telling Aunt May that he’s being more reckless than usual by ‘ignoring the wisdom of his mentor while in the field.’ Peter can barely handle breathing right now, let alone the combined wrath of his mentor and caregiver.
“Let him through, Karen.”
“Excellent choice--F.R.I.D.A.Y. was about to bypass me regardless.” Peter hasn’t even finished processing that information before Tony’s face is in his mask’s view.
“Hey, Mr. Stark,” Peter greets, hoping he doesn’t sound half as winded as he feels. Though there’s not much he can do about the bruises he knows are discoloring his face
“Hey kid--oh, geez.” Tony visibly grimaces when he gets a look at Peter. “And here I thought live stream of the beating you took was the most brutal thing I’d see today. Your face looks like it’s doing a pretty good impression of a hamburger.” While it hurts like hell, Peter can still manage an exasperated eye-roll that’s no less sassy than usual.
“Thanks. I was practicing for Halloween,” the teen retorts. “I was thinking my new friend here could be the Hulk, and I’d be Loki.” The quip pulls an amused snort from Tony. Peter had been told about the ‘Puny God’ incident from eight years ago by Clint, and Tony still had the video file saved and everything. Peter had fallen from his chair and nearly pissed himself from laughing. Honestly, he still finds it pretty funny, but now he also sympathizes heavily with the God of Mischief.
“I’ll hold a costume contest this year just so the two of you can take home the trophy.” Now it was Peter’s turn to laugh--an action he quickly aborts as his still-healing ribs protest the movement.
“Nice to know rehearsals won’t go to waste. But aside from hurting my already wounded pride, was there any specific reason you called, Mr. Stark?” Peter can hear sirens in the distance--while the cops won’t be here any time soon, he still decides he’s spent long enough using the Rhino as a backrest. Aunt May will start calling if he doesn’t get going soon, and he should be healed enough by the time dinner rolls around to avoid worrying her.
“Mostly checking up. Karen’s clocking some pretty nasty scrapes, and you were spending longer than usual at the scene despite the dust already settling. How’re you holding up, Peter?” Peter barely contains a wince as he goes airborne, the action pulling at his injuries.
“Totally fine, Mr. Stark. Just wanted to appreciate my handiwork, maybe catch my breath a little. I’m already healing and everything.” It’s only when it’s gone does Peter notice the relaxing of Tony’s slightly furrowed brow. Peter would like to say he forgets that May isn’t the only one that worries after him, but he can’t. It’s impossible for Peter to be unaware of how, beneath the jokes and flippant tone, Tony’s been paying more attention and care to Peter after Titan. After Thanos .
Neither of them mentions it.
“You said ‘mostly’,” Peter reminds as he swings to the next rooftop. “What’s the other reason?”
“Yeah, yeah--summer vacation started today, right?” Peter’s grinning madly, excitement twinkling in his eyes at the reminder of his recently earned freedom.
“Yup! Why? Is this about the stuff we talked about? Me training at the compound and stuff?”
“Got it in one,” Tony confirms, his lips twitching upwards at the teen’s blatant enthusiasm. “Right now Pepper’s making me do work because apparently I’m not allowed to keep putting my name on things without being marginally more involved. Saving the universe and, you know, managing the Avengers is no longer a valid excuse to brainstorm by the beach--”
“Uh...shouldn’t you be doing that then? Working? Instead of calling me and turning me into an accomplice to your procrastination? Because I really don’t like getting on Ms. Potts’ bad side, Mr. Stark, and as much as I respect you she’s almost as scary as Aunt May and--”
“Relax, kid,” Tony says, waving off Peter’s concern with a dismissive gesture. “I’m taking a break. Genius doesn’t work if I’m bored out of my mind. As I was saying--Pep has me working like a dog for my own company, but once I appease the board and announce something innovative and epic to the media, how would you like to come upstate for a week or two for some more hands-on training with the team? Nat still thinks your hand to hand’s the sloppiest thing she’s ever seen, and today’s performance hasn’t improved her opinion. She wants to tag team you with Cap to help you match opponents that are as strong as or stronger than you. Even the Lord of the Cats may be around to for a round or two.”
“You mean they want to brutally haze me for more than two days without school as a valid excuse for me to escape, and even called in a literal royal ass-whooping for the occasion.” The prospect was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.
“Two for two. Makings of a genius right there. And that means something coming from an actual genius. Though he’s actually going to be around more for diplomacy than shedding on you in the arena but I’m sure he can be swayed. We’re persistent like that.”
“Can’t wait,” Peter replies, his smile grew impossibly wider.
“That--that right there is the face of a masochist. I should be concerned, but Pepper’s officially on the hunt and I can’t worry about both of us. So I’ll call you back and work out the details once she cuts me loose. Enjoy having feeling in your...everything while you can, kid.” With that, Tony ends the call, and Peter alights in an alley a few blocks away from home. Despite being on the ground, he still feels like he’s on cloud nine as he strips from his suit and packs it up. Once he’s in his civvies, he wastes no time fishing his phone out of his pocket and starting a group call with Ned and MJ.
“Guys, you won’t believe who’s going to kick my ass soon--Oh my god did I win today or didn’t I? You guys sound like Mr. Stark. Just shut up and listen already!”
Peter’s no longer limping can breathe far easier, and a quick check of his reflection in a shop’s window confirms his face is as good as new by the time he finishes the call and makes it back to the apartment. The sun is starting to dip below the horizon, painting the sky and buildings in brilliant shades of red and orange. Peter feels like his stomach is close to eating itself alive, the cost of his speedy recovery and other abilities making itself known through his growling stomach. Aunt May should be home and be working on dinner (or, if Peter’s lucky, having some delivery place working on it), and Peter can practically hear the conversation they were going to have about today’s incident.
When May had walked in on her nephew donning his Spider-Man suit, the gig had immediately been up. The shock had made Peter’s own reaction time slow as the two had gaped at one another with slack-jawed silence. A silence that had been Peter’s very undoing. Before Peter could even begin stuttering out excuses or lies about cosplay, May held up a hand, told him to finish changing, and meet her in the living room.
The conversation that had followed was heavy, intense, loud, and emotional, in that order. She’d wanted him to stop. He told her he couldn’t. Threats were made, swears (on May’s part) thrown, and fears expressed. The air between them was heavy for days , and Peter hadn’t considered sneaking out for patrol or calling Tony to help convince her once.
Somehow, it wound up being Ben that settled it all.
May came to his room on the third night, eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed, clutching a picture of the three of them.
“I’ve been giving it a lot of thought,” she begins. Peter watches silently as she sits at the foot of his bed, looking at a picture of their family instead of at him directly. “I’ve been wondering what Ben would do about this if he were here. Wondering if maybe you would’ve told us, or at least him instead of keeping it a secret if he was still around.” Peter’s apologized a thousand times for not telling her--for lying and making her worry, and he’s ready to begin doing so again when May holds up a silencing hand.
“And no matter how many times I think about it--think about him and how he would’ve taken this, I can only think about is the day his killer was caught.” Peter swallows thickly at the reminder and May finally looks at him. “Spider-Man was the one that caught him. Brought him to justice. You sat with me that night and we cried over a couple of gallons of celebratory ice cream and I had no idea it was you. That you’d avenged Ben and gotten us the peace of mind we’d needed since he was killed.” The tears have started again on May’s face, and Peter is fighting back his own, trying and failing to desperately swallow the lump in his throat.
“All I knew at the time was that I was so so grateful to Spider-Man . I wished I could’ve told him just how much this meant to our family. What this meant for me and you and how I would’ve given the moon and the stars to tell him thank you. I thought it was just--just another small time arrest to Queens’ newest hero, no matter how major it was to us.
“But he did know. He knew because it was you. That--that angel that had avenged my Ben was right next to me the whole time. Every time I saw Spider-Man after that I was thinking ‘his parents must be so proud.’ or ‘Thank goodness for him.’ He was as inspiring to me as an Avenger and while I would hate to see anything happen to him I never wanted him to stop...until I saw you in that costume.”
“Aunt May--” She stops Peter by pulling him in for the tightest hug she can muster, fingers tangling themselves in his hair as she rubs soothing circles on his scalp.
“Knowing you’re him changed so much for me. I wanted my Peter to stop putting himself in danger. To stop getting hurt and sneaking out to places and people I can’t protect you from.” She breaks the hug but doesn’t move away. Instead, she cups his face gently in her hands and stares into his eyes. “But I’m not the only one you’ve helped. I’m not the only one that thanks God every day for Spider-Man’s presence in Queens. You’ve saved and changed so many lives and while I have no issues being selfish with you--I can’t stop being so god-damn proud of you either. And I know Ben would be too.
“More than that...I know I can’t stop you. I could ground you for life but even before Tony Stark started bankrolling your fancy suit, you were still out saving lives and you still would be even if I took it away or tried to have that man locked away for child endangerment. Which I won’t by the way, so stop with that look. One of the only reasons I can even begin to stomach this whole thing is because if anyone knows how to make protective armor strong enough to keep you safe, it’s Iron Man. So I’ll give you my blessing--with a shit ton of conditions of course.” Peter wants to say something. Anything. But the lump has only grown and he doesn’t trust his voice not to break nor his tears to stay put as May presses a kiss to the crown of his head.
“But I am proud. I’m sure Ben and your parents are too. So let me just say...thank you Spider-Man, for helping our little family find peace.” Peter finally cracks and buries his face into May’s shoulder. He holds her as tightly as he can without hurting her and cries, May returning the embrace just as fiercely, her own tears flowing into Peter’s hair and that’s how they spent the night.
The new rules are set the next morning.
While Peter had been pretty good about keeping to his extended curfew, calling ahead if he was going to be late to dinner, and obeying May’s reasonable yet long list of conditions, today had been rough . Peter may have recovered from the fight, but social media wasn’t kind, and if Tony caught a live stream of the beat-down Spider-Man received on whatever social media platform(s) had captured it, May has almost certainly seen it too.
Goddamn smartphones.
She was going to worry, and when she worries she lectures, and when she worries and lectures, even thinking about the Avengers or the name Tony Stark is enough to set May off for hours. Which means Peter would have to wait at least a day or have a remarkably chill day/patrol for her to calm down enough for him to bring up training at the compound. It was going to be a long night--one he could hopefully cut short after dinner by retiring early. It’s not like he would have to fake being tired after today’s ordeal.
Shaky plan of action set, Peter fishes the key out of his pocket, sticks it in the lock--
And his Spidey sense goes haywire.
Peter stops as his hair stands on end, adrenaline rushing his system as his senses go on high alert and force his exhaustion away. He starts with his immediate surroundings, neither seeing nor hearing any immediate threats on the landing. There are footsteps below, coming up the stairs, but they’re unhurried and steady--likely a neighbor he can’t yet name heading for their own room.
Peter’s pulse is roaring loudly in his ears as he faces the door to the apartment he and May share. His Spidey Sense went off when he put the key in the lock. There was no one on the stairs or landing. Aunt May couldn’t set off his Spidey Senses like this even if she wanted to. No matter how Peter looked at it, there was a threat inside the apartment. A threat that isn’t May, but still in there with her.
The thought makes him sick.
Peter leaves the key in the lock. Even before his senses were enhanced by the bite, the sound of the key being inserted in the lock has always been audible to him from the living room at least. Sometimes he’d miss it when distracted, and even now, if Peter’s in his room and occupied with homework or Ned, he doesn’t notice May’s arrival until she’s turning the key in the lock. So he neither turns it nor pulls it back out. If he’s lucky, no one heard the key being inserted, and he won’t ruin the potential element of surprise by drawing more attention to it now. Instead, Peter lowers himself carefully to the ground and presses his ear to the ground, closing his eyes and focusing as hard as he can on what's he can hear in the apartment.
The television is playing in the background--Peter can just make out the Big Bang Theory theme song playing. Good. Maybe the background noise canceled out the key. Beyond the t.v. though, Peter doesn’t hear anything else. No sounds of May puttering around the kitchen, typing away at her keyboard, or munching on the coconut cookies she thinks Peter doesn’t know she hides behind the pasta in the pantry. Nothing. He takes a breath to calm down--his own jack-hammering heart is making it hard to hear, and if he panics too hard, he can’t think.
One...two...four....nine heartbeats. One pumping erratically. Breathing rapidly--Aunt May. Aunt May and at least eight others. No one’s moving.
Peter stands and begins backing up. Downstairs. He needs to get downstairs. Change into his suit. Try to get a better view somehow and plan. His hands are shaking as he pats down his pockets trying to find his phone. Should he report a break in instead? Call Tony? No--Tony’s busy, under house arrest by Pepper. Besides, it would take even Iron Man or Falcon a quarter hour to arrive and Peter’s fucking Spider-Man for Christ’s sake--
His mental rant is cut short by a click behind his head.
Peter knows what it sounds like when a gun’s safety is turned off. Knows the feel of a barrel pressing against the nape of his neck well and is overly familiar with the sound of the hammer being pulled back. Many criminals have shot at Spider-Man in the time since Peter’s donned his original costume. Most have missed, the rest barely grazed. Those that have managed to hit had only come after Tony had become involved with his vigilante antics and those had bounced right off of the suit. He hasn’t felt this vulnerable in the face of a gun since--
“Hands where I can see them, Spider-Man . No sudden movements.” Peter does as he’s told, phone still in his hand but still locked. He can hear his assailant moving behind him, but the gun doesn’t waver, and he doesn’t know what the ones inside will do to May if they hear the gun go off. Peter curses himself for dismissing the steps on the stairs. Stupid stupid stupid rookie mistake--
“I’ve got the kid secured. Heading in now.” It was a woman holding the gun to his head then. “Alright, Parker. Hand over the phone.” Peter passes her the device obediently, wishing he’d called someone the minute he realized something was wrong. The woman pockets the device and presses the barrel harder against his head. “Now open the door. No funny business if you want your aunt to come out of this in one piece.” Peter doesn’t miss what she doesn’t say--is well aware that even if he cooperates, he’s not going to come out of this ‘in one piece.’ Whatever ‘this’ is.
He turns the key in the lock and opens the door with deliberately slow movements and involuntarily shaky hands. When the door opens, it proves his hearing right if nothing else. Eight heavily armed men and women stand scattered about the living room. Counting the woman behind him that had just shut and locked the door behind them, there were a total of eight guns trained on Peter.
And one on a bound and gagged May Parker.
“Aunt May-- ” Peter breathes, taking a hurried step toward her before stopping quickly as the sound of several safeties clicking off reach his ears.
“Easy there, Peter,” a man says. He’s in the center of the room, the only one armed with a pistol that’s being held steadily to May’s head. “You don’t mind if I call you that, right? Figured you’d prefer your own name when you don’t have the suit on.” It takes Peter a moment to figure out what’s happening. The intruders all looked like military personnel, and the voice was familiar to Peter, along with the face...
“Secretary Ross,” Peter says, thanking whatever merciful god above that his voice doesn’t break. He’s seen Ross on television, but Peter’s more familiar with the sound of him raging on Tony’s answering machine, or making threats he can’t follow through on should he get left on hold again. Peter’s starting to regret laughing with Tony about it. “Why--what’re--what’s going on here?” He wants to the stutter is part of a very clever ruse to play innocent, but Peter really doesn’t feel up to lying to himself presently.
“I believe that’s pretty clear, Peter,” Ross replies airily. “Long and short is that we’re here to bring you in, Peter. You’re the mutant vigilante known as Spider-Man, and your unchecked actions are in direct violation of the Sokovia Accords.” Ross spoke as if he were discussing the weather, not throwing Peter’s double life in his face and threatening-- promising --to take it all away in an instant.
“I--I’m not--”
“Let’s not do this, Peter,” Ross sighs. “You mean to tell me we won’t find a fancy suit made by Stark in that backpack of yours, linking you and the vigilante known as Spider-Man together? That if we were to comb the entirety of the cameras in Queens, we’d find you somewhere a feasible alibi can be obtained for the time Spider-Man’s out patrolling the streets or taking the law into his own hands?”
“No! I mean--yes--I mean--you’re making a mistake--” Ross pulls back the hammer on the gun pointed at May and Peter’s mouth snaps shut with an audible click. He feels sick, as his stressed and tired mind works frantically to figure a way out of this for him and May both. But he can’t--there isn’t . They were going to arrest him for--
“The Sokovia Accords?” Peter chokes out, despite the previously unspoken gag order. “I...I thought they were going to be revised after the whole everyone getting dusted incident? Because the Avengers saved everyone despite not being formally mobilized to fight back against the threat and--” he stops himself again as Ross’s expression takes on a harder edge.
“They will be. But such negotiations haven’t fully begun, let alone come close to conclusion. Nor have the Accords been repealed until a new draft is drawn.”
‘He’s pissed,’ Peter realizes. Ross was a major factor in drawing the original Accords, and while he can’t touch the Avengers directly, Peter was an easy target--and the suit a potential link to Tony for aiding and abetting at least.
“So you’re still violating a completely valid law. And you’re going to serve your time with us, Spider-Man. ” Almost like a switch was flipped, the soldiers begin closing in on Peter, guns raised and the freakiest cuffs Peter has ever seen in hand. Behind her gag, May is trying to yell something at the ones assembled in the room.
“Wait!” Peter shouts hands out to stop their advance--which surprisingly works as the soldiers stop, but don’t lower their guard. “I just--let me say bye to her. Please. We’re all we have.” He slides the backpack off and kicks it away as a sign of good faith. “I just want one last hug. Please. ” There’s a moment of silence where Peter’s terrified they’ll say no and the last he’ll see of May for god knows how long is the woman tied and terrified and the last she’ll see of him for god knows how long is him being escorted out by armed guards--
“Fine. You’ve got sixty seconds, and then we’re gone, Parker.” With a few tugs, May’s arms are untied and her mouth free. The guards step aside and within a second the Parkers are in each other’s arms as if the force of their embrace would be enough to stop time, stop this whole thing from happening or being real .
“Aunt May, I’m so sor--”
“You can make it if you run now,” May whispers fiercely into his ear. “I know you can make a jump from here. Just go out the window now and don’t look back--”
“You can’t--May I can’t they’ll kill you, ” Peter whispers back urgently.
“No--I’m their only leverage against you but they might kill you , Peter and I don’t care if you’re a hero, but I won’t be the reason some government pigs take you away to god knows where to do god knows what--”
“Thirty seconds,” Ross reminds. “And you two better not be up to anything fishy--even if you ran kid, we have agents all over the streets who have kill on sight orders.”
“Oh, will you shut the fuck up,” May snaps at the man, pulling away just enough to glare at her and give Peter a clear view of her red face and watery eyes. “Where the hell do any of you get off arresting a child for fucking helping people-- ” Peter reaches a shaky hand to May’s face and wipes away a stray tear--the first of many, he’s sure. May turns back to him, the fury fading to be replaced with a look of anguished desperation.
“I love you, Aunt May,” Peter says.
“They can’t get away with this--we can’t let them do this Peter--”
“You’re really the best aunt--the best mom a kid could ask for, you know?” Peter feels his own throat closing but he has to say this in case he doesn’t get to later.
“I’ll call Stark--or the police or the goddamn President if I have to because they can’t take you-- ”
“I don’t know where I’d be without either you or Uncle Ben. Illegal or not, you guys were the reason I did any kind of good, with or without my powers.” May pulls Peter close once more, fingers digging into his shoulder and side and for a second, Peter feels like her grip is strong enough that the Hulk couldn’t pry her off.
“You--you’re just a good kid, Peter. We couldn’t have gotten better. So don’t you give up on me, alright?”
“Time’s up.” They ignore the proclamation.
“Promise me you won’t give up, alright? They won’t keep you for long. They can’t. I won’t let them.”
“I promise, Aunt May. I promise.”
“I said time’s up, ” Ross says, grabbing May by the shoulders to pry her off of Peter with little success and the two held fast.
“Just you watch--between me and Stark, you’ll be back home in time for breakfast tomorrow. Dinner at the latest.” There are guards on Peter now, pulling him back as Ross and another work on getting May off.
“I believe you.” Peter only relents because he knows holding on any longer will start to hurt May--even if she’s not likely to care at present. The cuffs are snapped into place on his wrists, the heavy gauntlets whirring to life now that they were engaged. May is fighting for all she’s worth as Peter is shoved to the door.
“Remember to stay strong, baby. Okay? You’re going to be fine, okay? I love you so much. ”
“I love you too--” and now Peter’s in the hall as the door slams shut heavily between them. The halls are silent and empty, and Peter wonders what they did to ensure no one left their rooms before this was said and done.
The sun’s long set by the time they make it outside. A van Peter hadn’t noticed earlier is idling outside and the doors are opened as soon as the escort is close enough. He’s shoved roughly in between a few other agents, all with weapons drawn and trained on him. Once he’s seated, he feels an abrupt pinch as a needle is shoved into his neck. Dizziness overtakes him, followed by an intense cause of nausea as his body immediately begins rejecting whatever they’d tried dosing him with.
“Not...gonna work,” he slurs, bending forward as he takes breaths to keep himself from heaving. “Body dussnt like drugs n stuff.” One time Bruce (with Peter’s permission, of course) had tried testing a variety of anesthetics at a multitude of doses when an attempt at numbing his pain to set a broken arm went horribly wrong (Bruce and Tony had needed new shoes and pants). The result was the same each time--doses that could take down a stampede of grown elephants, or even Captain America himself, just made Peter dizzy, nauseous, and lethargic as his metabolism worked at burning them off.
Whoever hit him with the first needle apparently didn’t feel like taking Peter at his word, as he feels another needle pricking him. This time Peter can’t stop himself from heaving. There was only bile, since he hadn’t eaten in hours, but it still burned his throat and mouth and made the van reek something foul. The heaving leaves Peter impossibly more tired than before as his body shakes violently from the efforts of his immune system purging itself of the foreign substance.
“Prolly gunna kill me ‘fore ya knock m’out.” He was more likely to OD or have his liver fail before any known suppressant would succeed in knocking him out. Thanks bite. He’s pulled upright, and he utters a quick prayer that they won’t try again because this wasn’t something he wanted to test his body’s upper limits on--especially after the day he’d had. Instead, a sack is pulled over his head to obscure his vision (with the unfortunate side effect of trapping him with his own bile-breath). He has only a moment to feel relieved before something hard collides with the back of his head, and Peter knows no more.
Back at the apartment, Ross receives a report from the transport van. The kid was secured, and while the drugs prepared hadn’t had the intended effect, the spider was still subdued, and that's really all that mattered. Alone with May Parker, the woman bound and gagged once more, he meets her hate-filled gaze impassively.
“You know--that kid of yours really is something special.” Ross begins pacing the room, taking in the pictures on the wall and other features of the modest apartment. The only time May’s heated gaze didn’t follow him was whenever he was directly behind the woman. Not that he was trying to escape it--there was nothing she could do to him anyway.
“Those powers of his could be the secret we’ve been looking for, all this time. The kid is probably just as strong and fast--maybe even stronger and faster than Captain America himself. And the government has been trying to recreate that super soldier serum for decades .” He picks up a picture off the mantle. In it a far younger Peter is sitting atop his uncle's shoulders, holding a trophy for some competition or other proudly above his head as May claps delightedly beside them. The trio is practically glowing with pride.
“Smart as a whip too, according to his records. With the right... conditioning , he’d make quite the asset to this nation, whether we can make a serum to duplicate his powers from him or not.” He releases the photo and watches as it falls and onto the wooden floor, the glass shattering loud enough to make May flinch. “Of course, both of those things will take time. A whole lot of it. And if you go making a stink before we can get things properly settled, and the kid tucked away somewhere for safekeeping ...well. It would be such a waste to our dear country, wouldn’t you agree, Mrs. Parker?”
May growls at him from behind her gag. Ross sighs.
“I had a feeling you’d feel that way. I’ve seen Spider-Man in action, after all. That spirit and sass couldn’t have all come from Stark, after all.” He moves out of May’s line of sight, and she can’t see any of what he’s doing. But she can guess. In fact, she’s almost certain of what's coming due to Ross’s unsubtle allusions. She closes her eyes and bites down hard into the gag as she tries hard not to start crying. The things this man--this monster is going to do to her Peter--
And she won’t be able to do anything about it.
I’m so sorry, Peter.
Ross finishes attaching the silencer, takes aim, and fires a bullet into the back of May Parker’s head. With this loose end tied, he sets to work setting the scene and ransacking the apartment. Make it look like a burglary gone wrong in order to buy some time. It won’t fool Stark for long, if at all, but as long as no one comes looking for long enough, it’ll do.