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Chapter Text

The yelling and the gathering crowd quickly grabbed Peter’s attention as he swung through Queens on patrol. He landed on a building near the commotion and nearly couldn’t believe what he was seeing at the center of the chaos. A man in a skin-tight black and red leather suit was jumping in place, screaming.

“SPIDEEEEEYYYYYY!!!” the man yelled, continuing to hop in place. “Don’t make me break another limb!”

Peter noticed with a thrill of horror that one of the man’s wrists appeared to be broken. His hand hung at an obscenely unnatural angle, but he didn’t seem at all concerned about it. Finally, he stopped jumping, sighed, and aimed a powerful roundhouse kick at the side of the nearest building.

The corresponding crunch and gasps from the crowd indicated that the leather-clad man had just broken his ankle. Decidedly unfazed, he resumed his jumping on just one foot, the other trailing uselessly beneath his shattered ankle. “I SWEAR TO GOD THAT I WILL CONTINUE MAIMING MYSELF UNTIL YOU GET HERE, SPIDER-MAN!”

It hit Peter like a jolt of lightning that this man was trying to get his attention. Is he some kind of criminal or just mentally unstable? Maybe both?

The man groaned. “Alright, here goes another one.” He pulled his fist back as if to punch the same wall that he’d just kicked. He paused, looking around at his gathered audience. “None of you are going to at least try to stop me? Where’s the decency in this city?”

The man’s question was met with shocked silence. No one approached him. With his enhanced hearing, Peter heard a woman mutter to another, “I’m calling the police.”

The man in leather glowered at all of them, then pivoted dramatically back to the wall with his fist raised. Criminal or not, Peter was unable to stand the sight of the man injuring himself any further. He dropped from the building with all the speed he could manage, slowing his fall slightly with a web. “STOP!” he yelled.

The crowd turned to stare at him, parting to let him through.

The man lowered his fist, turning quickly towards Peter and clapping his hands in delight. Given his broken wrist, it was a grisly sight. “Spidey! You made it! Boy, am I relieved to see you! Geez, you’re even hotter in person. They said you were a sucker for a damsel in distress, so…” He gestured at himself. “Oh! How rude of me, I haven’t even introduced myself. The name’s Deadpool.”

Peter was at a loss for words, still staring at Deadpool’s broken wrist and ankle. “Y-you… we should get you to a hospital,” he choked.

Deadpool followed his gaze. “Oh, this? Don’t worry…” he quickly snapped his wrist and ankle back into place with more loud cracks that drew additional gasps from the crowd. “I heal.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “How about we go somewhere else and talk?” he asked weakly. With his heightened senses, he could hear the sirens of approaching police cars.

Deadpool nodded and suddenly turned towards the crowd. “You heard him! Go on! Scram! Show’s over! Get outta here!” He unsheathed the katanas from behind his back and brandished them threateningly at the stragglers as the crowd quickly dissipated.

The sirens were getting closer. Peter was not exactly on friendly terms with the police, and he didn’t think being discovered with this clearly unhinged man would help his reputation with them any. He turned to Deadpool and did the only thing he could think of. “Deadpool,” he said. “Grab onto me.”

Deadpool cocked his head. “I usually make a guy buy me dinner first, but you’re a regulation hottie so I might make an exception…”

Peter groaned. “Come on, man.”

“Okay, okay, sheesh.”

Deadpool walked slowly over to Peter, wrapping his arms around his torso. One of his hands crept dangerously low down his back. “Hey!” Peter snapped, grabbing Deadpool’s hand and returning it to an appropriate height.

“Oh, shit, did I misread that moment?”

Peter sighed, not deigning to reply. Deadpool clearly needed some sort of psychiatric attention. “Hold on tight, okay?”

“Okay…”

Peter shot a web up at the building he’d descended from and pulled the two of them rapidly upward. Deadpool actually squealed with glee. “Wow!” he said as they settled down on top of the building. “That was cool as hell, Spidey. What a rush!”

Peter couldn’t help but grin a little. “Yeah. Uh. We should probably move so that the police don’t see us, but one of these rooftops should be a good enough spot to talk.”

Wade nodded and allowed Peter to continue swinging them a few blocks over. Finally, they were sufficiently secluded for Peter to feel comfortable. Deadpool was still holding tight to him. “You, uh, know you can let go of me now,” he said.

“Aw, do I have to?” Deadpool asked, even though he released him at once, taking a few steps back.  “That shit’s even more fun than it looks!”

“Should I even ask what you were dismembering yourself out there for?”

“Oh, yeah. Almost forgot in the thrill of all the web slinging and your bod. I’ve got a problem.”

“Okay…” said Peter slowly.

“My kid, I rescued him from a mutant orphanage not so long ago. He’s been having some um—anger issues? Basically he has this like, slight problem where he--shoots fire at people from his hands. Calls himself Fire Fist, no matter how much I beg him not to. Anyway—“

Peter listened incredulously as Deadpool described a secret organization that tortured kids with powers under the guise of an orphanage. He called it the Essex House for Mutant Rehabilitation. Peter shivered.

“Anyway, he has like crazy PTSD from all the fucked up shit he went through in there. His therapist says it’s all just a coping mechanism to help him deal with it, but I swear, Spidey, he’s not lying.”

“Lying about what?”

“He says there’s another orphanage. A sister orphanage somewhere else in the city. We’ve looked into it me and the X-men that aren’t actively trying to murder me. ‘Course we have, but nothing’s come up. So now the shrink’s telling my kid he’s delusional because he’s been through ‘trauma’.” Wade did dramatic air quotes around the word.

“Couldn’t he be?” asked Peter.

“Don’t talk about shit you don’t understand,” Deadpool said in a low, dangerous voice. He reached out, jabbing Peter in the chest with his finger. “I heard that shit from Colossus and Negasonic Teenage Warhead and I am not gonna take it from anyone else.”

Peter put his hands up, accidentally slipping out of the slight baritone he’d adopted as his Spider-Man voice. “L-look, I’m sorry man! I didn’t mean—“

Deadpool suddenly froze, his anger evaporating. “Shit,” he said quietly. “I thought your voice was just gravelly or something.”

“It is!” Peter insisted, overcompensating with an even deeper voice than his usual. “I mean-- it’s not gravelly, it’s just deep!”

“How the fuck old are you?”

“I—“ Peter floundered. “Does it matter?”

“Yes. Jesus. Out with it, how old are you?”

Peter sighed. Somehow, he didn’t think he’d be able to successfully lie to Deadpool and he didn’t want to piss him off any further. “I’m fifteen,” he mumbled.

Deadpool’s reaction was beyond anything Peter could ever have anticipated. He gagged, collapsing in front of Peter like a grotesque puppet with its strings cut. He was muttering to himself, rocking from side to side in a strange approximation of a fetal position.

Alarmed, Peter knelt beside Deadpool. “Wh-what’s wrong? Are you having a seizure?”

Deadpool scrabbled away from him, his hand on his chest. “I’ve just been flirting with a minor!”

Peter blinked in surprise. Then, he started to laugh. He couldn’t help it.

“Do you think this is fucking funny?”

Peter continued laughing, doubling over now. “I-I’m sorry,” he said, finally collecting himself with a final wheeze of laughter.

“Are you quite finished?” Deadpool asked, sounding indignant. “Shouldn’t you be in school or something?”

“It’s summer vacation,” Peter said.

“Summer—oh shit, yeah. I forgot they give kids summer vacation. But, wait—no. Russell’s been going to school…”

Peter frowned. “None of the public schools around here are still in session,” he said slowly.

“That little motherfucker! Where the hell’s he been going if he isn’t going to school?”

Peter shrugged awkwardly. He couldn’t quite get a read on Deadpool, but he was way less frightened than he knew he should be. “What’s with the suit?” Peter asked.

Deadpool snapped out of his muttered diatribe about his kid pretending to go to school. “This? Oh, this is so bad guys don’t see me bleed! I see you’ve got the idea too.”

“Okay….” Peter said dubiously. “So, you’re a vigilante?”

Deadpool snorted. “As if. I’m a merc.”

“A what?!”

“A mercenary. It means I—“

“I know what it means!”

“Don’t sound so appalled,” Deadpool complained. “I only take hits on bad guys.”

“And who decides if they’re bad guys?” challenged Peter.

“Ultimately Jesus, I think? But I’m subbing in.”

Peter was speechless. This man was killing people for money. He had to go to the police.

Deadpool seemed to sense what Peter was thinking, because he said, “Don’t bother trying to turn me in, okay? I’m technically dead and I’m no amateur—they’ll never find anything definitively linking me to a crime scene. Besides, I’m mostly done with the merc stuff now that I’ve got the kid. Trying to create a stable household and all that jazz.”

Peter sighed in resignation. “Fine.”

“Anyway,” Deadpool said, “I’m sorry for coming on to you back there. I had no idea you were a baby.”

Peter scowled at that. “I’m not a baby.”

“Okay, baby boy,” Deadpool said, clearly not listening to Peter. “Scout’s honor, I’m not into kids. Pretty much anyone else with a pulse, but not kids, you dig?”

“Um, sure…” said Peter.

Suddenly, Deadpool turned away from Peter, muttering to himself. “I know he’s a kid. This was a shit idea, alright? You got me.”

Peter raised an eyebrow, watching Deadpool with morbid fascination. This man really was mentally unstable.

Finally, Deadpool seemed to come to some kind of resolution with whoever or whatever he thought he was talking to, because he turned to Peter and put a hand on his shoulder. “I was going to ask you for help in tracking down this orphanage, but… just help me find Russell. Please. I’ll handle the other orphanage on my own. I’m not dragging a 15-year-old into this shit show.”

Peter mulled that over. He wasn’t sure that he even believed Deadpool about the first orphanage, never mind the second orphanage. But if it really was true… if kids with powers… kids like him were being exploited like that… he had to help. There was no way he was going to let Deadpool sideline him, but he thought it best not to argue at the moment. Not trusting himself to speak, he just nodded.

“Great. Thanks, kid. We should probably go back to my apartment. Maybe Russell’s even there since he’s apparently putting up a school façade. It’s about time that ‘school’ should be out.” Deadpool consulted his watch and Peter noticed that it was hot pink and covered with cartoon characters.

Peter felt a jolt of nervousness at the mention of Deadpool’s apartment. What if this was all some ploy to get Peter alone and kill him? Deadpool had straight up admitted to being a merc. What if someone had sent him to kill Spider-Man? He’d made plenty of enemies.

“Are you alright Peter?” Karen asked, making Peter jump. “My sensors indicate a dramatic increase in your heart rate.”

“I’m fine, Karen,” said Peter.

Deadpool looked up from his watch. “Do you hear voices too?” he asked excitedly.

“What? No!”

“You hear my voice, Peter,” said Karen.

“That’s not what he means,” said Peter.

Deadpool looked incredulous. “Okay, okay, I get it. Not ready to open up about the voices?”

“I do not hear voices!” snapped Peter.

“Would it help if I shared mine first? There’s white and yellow. White’s actually sorta helpful sometimes, but yellow is a total dick.”

Peter couldn’t tell if Deadpool was joking and decided that he didn’t want to find out. Instead, he cleared his throat in an attempt at dispelling his nerves.

Deadpool quickly changed tracks. “So, are we going back to my apartment?”

Peter hesitated, biting his lip. He knew that Deadpool was dangerous, but if there was even a chance that what he said about the orphanage was true, he had to stop it. “Okay,” said Peter. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

Half an hour later, Peter stood in a cramped apartment that smelled strongly of Mexican food and gun powder while Deadpool searched the place for Russell.

“He’s not here,” he said. “Damn it. Al!”

Peter looked around as an elderly woman emerged from one of the bedrooms looking irritated. “What, Wade?”

Peter looked at Deadpool. Wade?

“Have you seen Russell?” asked Deadpool.

“Have I seen Russell? Did you really just ask that?”

“Jesus, fine. You’re so touchy about being blind. Have you heard Russell?”

“No. I was trying to take a nap before you came trampling in here yelling.”

Deadpool sighed. “Okay, Al, go back to sleep. Sorry to disturb your beauty rest.”

Al closed the door again, muttering something that sounded distinctly like “moron” as she did so.

Peter blinked in shock. “Is that your mom?”

Deadpool chuckled. “Pretty much. That’s Al. She’s blind.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

“Anywho, Russell isn’t here, so…”

Even with the mask, Peter could tell that Deadpool’s light tone was hiding real worry. “Did he leave anything in his room?” asked Peter.

“Maybe,” said Deadpool, seeming uncertain for the first time.

“Can I look?”

“Huh? Oh, sure…” said Deadpool absently. “I’m going to try to call him.”

Peter headed for the bedroom that Deadpool had been searching for Russell and looked inside. The room was a cluttered mess, soda cans piled up on the spindly desk and dirty clothes strewn across the bed and floor.

Peter looked closer at the desk and found printed out maps of New York. Parts of the map were circled with red marker. Peter's brow furrowed as he studied the map. "Deadpool?"

"Call me Wade, Spidey. You already heard Al ruin my super secret identity," said Wade, joining Peter in the room. "What's up?"

Peter held up the map and Wade took it from him, smoothing it out on Russell's desk and knocking over the tower of soda cans in the process. Peter noticed that some of the cans hadn't been empty and that soda was now dripping onto the floor, but Wade seemed supremely unconcerned. He was looking closely at the map. "Do you think these are some of the locations he's found for the other orphanage?"

Peter nodded. "That's what I was wondering," he said. "Where was the original one?"

Wade found the red marker underneath Russell's desk and paused for a moment, considering the map. "Uh...right about here, I think." He circled it, then frowned. "Damn," he said. "It's right in the middle of Russell's circles."

"He must be looking within a certain radius," said Peter. "Maybe he heard something that made him think it was a particular distance away."

"Maybe," said Wade doubtfully. "Still seems like shooting in the dark."

Peter shrugged. " Either way, I bet we can find him at one of these locations."

Wade and Peter divided up the locations which were spread throughout the Bronx. Wade grew increasingly nervous at each location that he didn't find Russell. Finally, after searching all of his designated areas, he decided to double back and check on Spidey. Maybe he'd already found Russell.

Wade finally found Spider-Man at the second location he tried and with a rush of relief he saw that he was speaking to Russell. That relief quickly evaporated as Russell shot a fire ball at Spider-Man's head. Luckily, the kid was able to duck it. 

"No! No, I swear, your dad sent me!"

"LIAR!" Russell's hands were wreathed in fire and he was panting with exertion. "Get away from me!"

"Russell!" yelled Wade. He ran up, positioning himself between Spider-Man and Russell. "He's with me!"

Russell reluctantly dropped his hands to his sides, the fire dissipating. "Hey," he said sheepishly. 

"So, how's the school day going? Learning lots?" asked Wade scathingly.

Russell flushed. "No one believed me about the other orphanage," he said. "I thought I could find it on my own."

"I believed you!"

Russell looked down. "Not enough to help me keep looking."

Wade hesitated. "We are looking, okay? But we can't spend every second tracking this place down. You've been through some terrible shit, and you need to--"

"Don't tell me what I need!" Russell spat. "I know what I heard at Essex, okay? There are other kids just like me and they're trapped!" 

"I know," said Wade soothingly. "I know, bud. And I'm going to find them, I promise you, but all of this needs to stop. What would have happened if you did find the second orphanage and they'd captured you? And I thought you were at 'school' ? What then?"

Russell looked like he was at a momentary loss for words. He scowled.

"Come on," said Wade wearily. "Let's go home."

Chapter Text

Wade, Peter, and Russell shuffled back into the apartment. Peter felt distinctly awkward, especially since Russell had just attacked him. In an attempt to extend an olive branch to Russell, Peter turned to him. "Your powers... they're cool."

"Damn right. Yours are fucking lame."

"Russell!" Wade admonished.

"What?"

"Apologize to my friend Spidey."

"Why? His powers are lame!"

"They are not!" Peter found himself arguing in spite of himself.

"All you can do is stick to walls!" said Russell. "Your webs aren't even part of your abilities--you just use tech, right?"

Peter froze. "How do you know that?"

Russell shrugged. "It's obvious. I watch you on YouTube sometimes when I need a good laugh."

"That's not all I can do," Peter found himself saying, feeling stupid for how defensive he was getting.

"What else?" demanded Russell.

"I'm strong," said Peter somewhat pathetically. Russell snorted.

"Shut up, both of you," Al said, appearing in the doorway.

"Jesus, Al, you've gotta stop sneaking up on us like that," Wade complained as he jumped in surprise. He turned and said in an aside to Peter, "She's a crack addict."

"I heard that," Al snapped.

"You were supposed to," quipped Wade. "Anyway, you haven't been formally introduced to my friend Spider-Man. Spider-Man, Al. Al, Spider-Man."

"Hello..." said Peter awkwardly.

"That boy is too young for you, Wade," Al said disapprovingly.

"It's n-not like that!" Peter insisted, mortified. Russell chuckled.

Al ignored Peter’s spluttered protests. "Did you find it, Russell?” asked Al.

Wade rounded on Al dangerously. "You knew?"

"Yes," said Al simply. “And so would you if you paid an ounce of attention.”

"Why didn't you tell me?" demanded Wade.

Al shrugged. "Didn't feel like my place."

"I'm actively having a stroke," Wade muttered, raising his hand to the bridge of his nose. "Someone revive me."

No one said anything in reply. Wade sighed heavily. "Russell, you go to your room! Al, you too. You're both grounded."

Russell rolled his eyes as Al snorted, but they both retreated back to their own rooms. Wade sighed. "Look, kid, thanks for your help with Russell. I've got it from here. Sorry he almost roasted you alive."

Peter shrugged. "I've been in worse scrapes," he said. He paused for a moment. “You really believe it’s real, don’t you? The other orphanage.”

Deadpool nodded.

“Let me help,” said Peter. “I’ve been in more dangerous situations than this before.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, kid,” said Wade. “These guys are not your regular run of the mill criminals.”

“Sounds like you need all the help you can get, then.”

“No.”

“Come on. Even if you don’t let me go with you guys, I’ll help on my own.”

“Why?” demanded Wade exasperatedly. “What’s it to you?”

Peter hesitated. “They’re… rounding up people like me. Torturing them. I can’t just let that happen. Not while I know about it. When you can do things like I can… but you don’t… and then bad things like this happen to people… they happen because of you.”

Wade groaned. “Damn hero bullshit,” he grumbled. “Fine. You can come, but we’re doing this my way, got it? And that means no cops.”

“Got it,” said Peter.

Tense silence settled between them, and Peter, ever intolerant of tense silences, broke it.  "So," Peter said hesitantly. "Do you always wear the mask? Even with Al and Russell?"

"What? Oh. No. This is for your benefit baby boy. Don't wanna scare yeh."

Peter's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean my face ain't pretty."

“Come on. I’m sure it’s not that bad,” said Peter, befuddled.

“It is,” answered Wade. “The guy who turned me into—well—this… it came at a price. Sure, I heal now. But the mutation that changed me… it made me into something else. I don’t look the same anymore.”

"I don't scare easily," said Peter.

"That's what the lady at Baskin Robin's said before she ran for her life."

“Wade,” said Peter.

“How about this, Spidey? You show me your face and I’ll show you mine.”

Peter hesitated, then looked away.

“Didn’t think so,” said Wade. “Now go home. We’ll start back up tomorrow.”

Peter nodded, turning for the door.

“Hey, kid,” said Wade.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Chapter Text

Peter didn't realize how exhausted he was until he stumbled over the threshold of the apartment that he shared with his Aunt May. He pulled off his mask, sighing with relief at the familiarity of his surroundings.

"Pete?"

Peter turned to see May sitting in the living room, her forehead creased with concern. She'd folded her arms over her chest.

"Hey, May," said Peter in his best 'everything is just fine' voice, opening the fridge and rummaging around for a diet coke. "How was your day?"

"It was alright," said May. "Until I saw this." She pulled out her phone and showed Peter a news article she'd pulled up. Peter's heart sank as he read the headline. "SPIDER-MAN IN CAHOOTS WITH SELF-MUTILATING MERCENARY." Below the headline was a grainy picture that someone had taken with a cell phone. It showed Spider-Man and a clearly injured Deadpool surrounded by a crowd of onlookers. Peter groaned. How do they write these so fast?

"Come on, May," said Peter lightly. "You know you can't believe anything they write in the Daily Bugle. "

"So it isn't true?"

Peter was quiet.

"Remember what we agreed about all of this? Complete transparency, right?"

"Right.”

"So?"

"We are not in 'cahoots,'" said Peter exasperatedly. "But... yeah. He did ask for my help."

May frowned. "With what?"

Peter grimaced. "He thinks there's some evil orphanage abusing kids with powers."

May raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah, I know," said Peter. “I'm looking into it, but I'm not sure it's even real."

May still looked worried. "I don't know if I like this, Peter."

"I'm being safe, I promise," said Peter easily.

May pursed her lips but didn't argue further. "I burned dinner again... Thai?"

Peter grinned and nodded.

***

Peter entered Wade's apartment the next morning and was alarmed to see him filling a duffel bag with high caliber guns. "Um... what are you doing?" asked Peter.

"Packing."

Peter raised an eyebrow.

"Russell thinks he found a new lead. If it turns out to mean anything, we need to be prepared."

Peter's chest constricted. "But--if we get enough evidence to shut them down, we won't need to kill anyone."

Wade turned, sighing heavily behind his mask. "Look kid, I'm not gonna make you pull the  trigger on anyone, alright? But this is going to go much better if I handle this myself. No cops, remember?”

Peter frowned. "We don't have to kill them, Wade." he said.

"Yes," said Wade with finality. "We do."

"Give me a chance," said Peter desperately. "I can get enough evidence to shut them down. Please. We'll turn them in. They’ll bring in a SWAT team."

"Do you know how difficult that evidence is going to be to acquire?" asked Deadpool disbelievingly. "You'd have to--" he trailed off uncomfortably at the resolute look on Peter's face. "No," he said shortly. "No way."

"Come on, Wade. Please. This is the only way."

"No, it's not. I'm not having this discussion."

"It'll be safer for the kids," insisted Peter.

" You're a kid!" Deadpool snapped.

" One kid," countered Peter. “From what Russell said, there could be tons of kids in this orphanage.”

Wade groaned. “I don’t like this.”

"Give me 24 hours," said Peter. "If I don’t have what I need in 24 hours, then you can come in there guns blazing just like you planned."

Wade narrowed his eyes. He considered Peter for a long moment. "No funny business?"

"None, I swear."

Deadpool sighed, looking up at ceiling as if hoping for divine intervention. Finally, he nodded. “Fine. 24 hours. Not a second more.”

***

Peter left Wade to continue filling his duffel bag with weapons and entered Russell's room. Russell was sprawled out on the floor with his map of New York out in front of him. "I really think this is it," he murmured, indicating a point on the map he'd neglected to circle before. "I overlooked it the last time because it's this factory that's been in business since the 60s... but I did a little digging and it was shut down just two years ago. It's been abandoned, but there have been no plans to sell it or demolish it. It's within the right radius, too."

Peter felt a thrill of foreboding as he studied the point Russell indicated on the map. He couldn't believe what he was contemplating.

"What was it like?" Peter asked softly.

Russell's typical caustic sarcasm evaporated on the spot as he looked up at Peter. "Hell," he said.

***

Deadpool hefted his duffel bag onto his shoulder and Russell crumpled his map of New Yok into his back pocket. Peter’s stomach dropped as the implications of his desperate plan finally caught up with him. “I can’t take the suit,” he said softly..

“What?!” Russell exclaimed.

“They can’t know who I really am,” muttered Peter. “I’m only going to show them my strength.”

“What the hell are you on about?” demanded Russell.

Wade winced. “Russell--”

Russell rounded on Wade. “You said you were going to kill them. You promised me.”

Wade was disturbed by what he saw brewing in Russell’s eyes. That unchecked thirst for blood was something he was all too familiar with.  “Russ,” he said softly. “Cable let me try with you. We have to let Spider-Man try with them, now. I don’t--” he broke off, continuing only with difficulty. “I don’t want to see you become the killer that Cable knew from the future.”

Russell stepped back from Wade as if he’d been slapped. He bowed his head and ceased his arguing. Peter was dumbfounded. Did he just say from the future? Shaking his head to clear it, Peter reached up to remove his mask. His hands froze as he tried to ignore his hammering heart. His spider sense was screaming at the base of his skull. “I don’t recommend this, Peter,” said Karen in a clipped voice.

Russell looked up at Peter’s hesitation. Uncharacteristically kindly, he said, “Don’t worry. We won’t tell anyone.”

Peter removed his mask, ignoring Karen’s warnings. Deadpool gasped dramatically and Peter rolled his eyes.

“You’re a cutie pie!” Deadpool crooned, lurching forward and taking Peter’s face in his hands. “Look at this baby face!”

“ Stop ,” Peter insisted, yanking back from Deadpool with an eye roll. Part of him was glad for Wade’s antics, though--it distracted him from the plummeting fear rolling in his stomach. He’d never revealed his identity to anyone on purpose. Even Mr. Stark, Ned, and May had all learned that he was Spider-Man by accident.

“I know he looks really young without the mask,” snapped Deadpool to himself. “What do you want me to do about it? Kid’s stubborn. And this might be stupid enough to work.”

Peter looked at Deadpool questioningly and Russell shook his head. “Don’t ask,” he said. “You can change in my room.”

With shaking fingers, Peter stripped out of the Spider-Man suit and pulled on jeans, a t-shirt, and an old baseball hat. He tried to ignore how wrong it felt to be contemplating this insane task without his suit.

When he rejoined Wade and Russell, he noted that Wade, too, had ditched his suit and was wearing a black hoodie and jeans. He kept his head bowed and his face was obscured by shadow. “Okay, kid,” said Wade. “If you’re serious about doing this, I have an idea about how to help make it go down, but I can’t wear the suit for it. I’m too recognizable. Hell, I’m too recognizable either way but this’ll have to do. Just-- don’t freak out. Brace yourself. Okay?”

“Okay,” said Peter nervously.

Slowly, Wade raised his head and let his hood fall back. Peter barely restrained himself from gasping. Every inch of Wade’s face was scarred, burned, or both. Peter was silent as he wondered what could have possibly happened to a human being to make them look like this.

“I was tortured,” explained Wade as if reading Peter’s thoughts. “Every day, they tortured me until I finally mutated. It cured my cancer, which I had at the time, but…” he gestured at himself.

Peter felt sick at the idea of anyone being able to do this to another person. He tore his eyes away from Wade, painfully aware that he was staring and that Wade would not appreciate pity.

“You need to get sick before we go?”

“No,” said Peter. “I’m fine.”

Wade studied him carefully. “Damn. You really do look fine. Clearly you’re made of stronger stuff than that lady at Baskin Robin’s.”

Peter chuckled. “Clearly.”

***

After two hours of skulking around outside the warehouse, Peter was starting to wonder if they’d encountered another dead end. There was absolutely no sign of life around the derelict building. Russell’s forehead was beading with sweat as he nervously chewed his lip. “This is it,” he insisted. “I can feel it.”

“This is stupid,” said Wade finally. “I’m going to--”

“Shh!” said Peter, hearing footsteps approaching the exit of the building with his enhanced hearing. “Someone’s coming!”

The three of them pulled into the shadows, watching breathlessly as a balding man with thin pursed lips dressed in white from head to toe exited the building, talking on an ancient looking cell phone. “We’ve had to sedate her,” he said softly. “I don’t know. This one might be more trouble than she’s worth…”

The man paused, listening intently to the response from the other line. Peter strained to hear, but even with his enhanced senses he couldn’t make it out. “Yes, sir. Yes, I will.” He disconnected the call, his shoulders slumped as he stood outside the warehouse.

Just as he was making to return to the building, Wade hauled Peter to his feet, shoving him out in front of him. “Stay here,” he hissed at Russell.

Peter knew that this had been his idea, but that didn’t stop his blood from turning to ice at the idea of what was about to happen. Deadpool shoved him again, and this time Peter fell to the ground. The sound of the commotion made the man in white turn swiftly, hands raised in alarm.

“Freak!” yelled Deadpool, aiming a kick at Peter’s side. Peter cried out in pain, flinching away from Wade’s foot, although he’d barely felt it.

“N-no! Please--”

“The state doesn’t give me nearly enough to deal with this bullshit. I’m cutting my losses.”

“Who told you of this location?” the man demanded, looking angry, his nostrils flared.

“Seth sent me,” said Wade in a low voice. Peter waited with bated breath. Russell had given them the name, but if he’d heard wrong….

The man’s expression cleared at once. “That idiot. He never calls ahead to let me know when they’re arriving…”

Wade shrugged. “This one’s on me. I couldn’t wait any longer. This little freak has been terrorizing every other kid in my house.”

“Is that so?” the man stooped to look at Peter. “I’m sure we’ll be able to help with that.” He stood back up, looking at Wade. “Foster care?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll continue to provide documentation to the state that he lives with you?”

“Yes.”

The man in white nodded, licking his dry, cracked lips. “Very well. Tell Seth that he will be enrolled.”

Wade nodded curtly.

“What’s his name?” the man asked.

“Al,” said Wade.

Peter nearly chuckled at that, despite his nerves.

“Al,” said the man with a strange purring voice. “Welcome to Essex.”

Chapter Text

Peter was expecting a collar (having been warned about the technology by Russell), but still blanched when the man in white produced one from his coat, clamping it quickly around Peter’s neck as if Peter might attack at any moment. Prepared though he was for the resulting loss of his powers, Peter still gasped as he felt something visceral just leave him. The terror that he’d just managed to keep at bay threatened to choke him. He wasn’t Spider-Man anymore. He was just Peter Parker. Wade kept his head down, his hood masking his expression, but Peter could feel waves of hesitancy radiating from him. Wade turned slowly away, his back retreating into the distance as he left. The man in white hauled Peter to his feet.

Peter was dragged into the warehouse, disconcerted by how clumsy he was without his powers as he tripped over his own feet. He registered that the place looked like some kind of post-apocalyptic bunker.  The man in white brought him to a shabby office and handcuffed him to a stiff-backed metal chair for “processing.” A skeletal looking woman dressed in the same white uniform looked up from her desk to appraise Peter. She dragged on the lipstick-stained cigarette she was holding, blowing a cloud of smoke directly into Peter’s face.

“He new, Jasper?” she asked.

The man in white nodded. “Get him processed before dinner, alright?”

Wendy huffed. “Fine,” she said, dismissing Jasper with a lazy wave of her hand. He left.

“Full name?” the woman asked.

“Al. Al Wilson,” said Peter hoarsely.

“Date of birth?”

“July 11th. 2001.”

Wendy peered over her large spectacles at him, holding her still-smoking cigarette dangerously close to her paper-covered desk. Then, she began furiously typing. Peter waited with bated breath. He hoped he’d recited the birthdate that Wade had told him to. He was so disoriented without his powers.

He guessed that he must have remembered the correct date, because after an eternity of forceful typing, and looking from Peter’s face to her computer screen, Wendy pulled out a clipboard. “Describe your abilities,” she said in a bored monotone.

“I’m strong,” said Peter.

She lifted her eyebrows.

Peter blushed. “Really strong,” he added.

She tsked in annoyance, filling in the form for what felt like eons. “Anything else?”

“No.”

She looked at him expectantly for a while in silence, then sighed and stamped the form. She pulled out a manilla folder and added the lonely form to it, printing “WILSON, AL” in block letters across the tab.

“Wrist,” she said.

Peter’s brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“Wrist,” she repeated, annoyance creeping into her tone.

“Oh,” said Peter, catching on. Hesitantly, he held his unshackled wrist up to the woman, then jumped back in alarm when she produced a large needle from one of her desk drawers.

“Don’t make us sedate you,” she sighed, sounding bored.

“Wh-what’s that?” asked Peter.

“Tracker,” she said, again moving the needle towards Peter’s wrist. Peter gritted his teeth and allowed her to insert the tracker under his skin, hissing slightly as it entered his arm.

She pulled back, throwing the needle into a biohazard trash can with a bored sigh. “Dinner’s in an hour,” she said. “Jasper will be back to collect you.”

With that, she turned back to her typing. Peter ignored the stinging in his arm, instead looking at the filing cabinets beneath Wendy’s desk. He wondered if Essex would be stupid enough to leave evidence about the true nature of their operations there. Somehow, he doubted it. It was probably full of folders with innocuous information about all of the residents.  He strained as much as he could against the handcuffs securing him to the chair, trying to see as much of the dilapidated office as he could. There was a lurid floral ashtray on nearly every surface. He wasn’t able to glean much from the depressing room.

At long last, the man named Jasper returned and brought him into a mess hall with about 50 other kids. For the number of people in the room, it was eerily silent. Each kid had a styrofoam tray laden with indiscernible mush. Peter shuffled through the food line, grabbing his own styrofoam tray. He tried not to examine its contents too closely as he already felt queasy.

Jasper stayed beside him as he had his tray filled, his bony hand gripping Peter’s shoulder. Peter tried to slink off to sit at a table with some of the other kids, but Jasper held him tight. “Good afternoon children. We have a new member with us today,” said Jasper. “This is Al.”

“Hello, Al,” the other kids chorused in a well-rehearsed chime. Peter shuddered as he noted a blinking collar on the neck of every child in the cafeteria.

“Al’s placement exam will begin at 7 sharp,” said Jasper.

The silence at this pronouncement if possible grew thicker. Peter heard small intakes of breath from the table nearest him but when he turned, the kids’ expressions were impassive.

“Everyone will gather in the auditorium.”

“Yes, Mr. Marks,” the kids said in unison.

Jasper escorted Peter to an empty seat in the cafeteria, seating him across from a boy with mousy brown hair and milk-pale skin. His face was plastered with freckles. “Max!” boomed Jasper and the small boy jumped, spilling milk onto his collar.

Jasper yanked the milk carton from the boy’s hands, gripping the boy’s forearm with enough force to make the boy cry out. “What did we say about spills, Max?”

“I-I’m sorry, s-sir.”

“Pathetic,” muttered Jasper, releasing Max. “One more ‘accident’ like that and you’ll jump to the top of my list for the box.”

The boy whimpered. Jasper ignored him, turning to Peter. “This pathetic worm is your bunkmate, Wilson. He’ll show you to your cot after dinner. Someone will come to collect you at 7 for your placement.”

Peter felt a flare of protectiveness for the smaller boy but controlled himself with difficulty. “Yes, sir.”

As Jasper stalked away, Peter leaned forward. “Are you alright?” he asked in the gentlest tone he could manage.

The boy still flinched away from Peter, dropping his eyes to his styrofoam tray and folding his arms on the table in front of him. Peter noticed bruises already beginning to bloom on the boy’s arm and felt slightly ill at the sight. He pushed his tray away from him, his stomach writhing too much to consider eating.

After dinner, Max directed Peter silently to their bunk bed and climbed up the ladder to his own, lying face down. Peter was afraid to ask what had happened to Max’s previous bunkmate.

Jasper arrived just before 7, handcuffing Peter and towing him to what he’d dubbed the auditorium. Peter had never seen anything less like an auditorium. The room was tiled from floor to ceiling and bare except for a large glass box in the center. One by one, the other children filtered into the room and adhered to the walls as far as physically possible from the glass cube at the center. Jasper kept a firm grip on Peter as he surveyed the other children in the room. “Who would like to volunteer to join our new friend in the box?”

Jasper’s question was met with stony silence. “No volunteers?” he asked in mock disappointment. “Oh, very well…” He moved away from Peter to pace back and forth in front of the children, consulting a chipped clipboard. None of the children would meet his eyes. Finally he stopped his pacing. “Kara,” he said.

The children parted immediately, leaving a small blonde girl standing on her own. She immediately began to cry.

“Now, now, Kara,” said Jasper in an imitation of a soothing voice. “This is a wonderful opportunity to distinguish yourself at Essex.”

Kara cried harder. Jasper grabbed her arm, towing her and Peter towards the box. He typed a code into the keypad on the side and one of the glass doors slid open. Jasper pushed Peter and Kara roughly inside, and the door sealed itself again.

Jasper’s voice boomed over some internal speaker system. “Al’s evaluation is about to begin! As you all know, this is the only time at Essex that we tolerate the use of your...abnormalities. Your collars will momentarily be deactivated, allowing the use of your powers. I must urge you not to try and escape the box. It is ballistic missile proof glass and completely impenetrable. Any attempt to escape the box will end with your immediate elimination.”

“There will be three rounds to evaluate Al. A round ends when one of you is unconscious or dead.”

Peter’s heart constricted. They were supposed to fight ? He looked at Kara, who he guessed to be about 11 or 12. She was shaking violently, tears rolling down her face. She’d clamped her hands over her ears to drown out Jasper’s voice.

Peter made to approach her, but Jasper’s voice admonished him. “Wait for the countdown!” he yelled.

Peter froze. The girl was looking up at him with unbridled fear, clearly thinking that Peter had tried to start attacking her early. Peter blanched. She put her hands up in front of her as if to ward him off.

“3...2...1.. Begin!” Jasper cried. Peter saw the red light on Kara’s collar flicker out and at the same time felt a rush as his powers returned to him. For the first time since entering Essex, he felt a modicum of control.

Peter stood his ground, looking at Kara, who had bowed her head, her long blonde hair covering her features. Peter suddenly noticed a crackling of electricity flowing around her fingers. She looked up at Peter, seeming reluctant. Peter felt his spider-sense shriek at the base of his skull as he managed just in time to throw himself out of the path of a bolt of electricity that Kara had hurled towards him.

Peter put his hands up. “Hey, hey! I’m not going to hurt you.”

Kara’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. She shot another bolt of electricity at him, and again Peter just managed to dodge. Kara stared as if waiting for Peter to do something.

“I’m really not,” said Peter gently.

Kara dropped her hands in shock, her eyes wide as saucers. She turned away from Peter, looking uncertainly out at Jasper.

“What are you waiting for Kara?” asked Jasper. “He’s given up!”

Kara whimpered.

“We both know that you can generate enough electricity to stop a human heart, don’t we Kara? That’s how you ended up here, isn’t it?”

Kara visibly paled. “I didn’t want to! I d-didn’t mean to!”

Peter felt slightly sick.

“Do it Kara. Do it now, or I’ll eliminate you right here.”

“No!” cried Kara. “No, p-please..”

“DO IT!” Jasper screeched, spittle flying out of his mouth in his rage.

Kara, sobbing heavily, turned back to Peter. This time, the electricity she generated pooled around her hands, snaking up her arms and wrapping around her torso. She held her hands out towards Peter, her eyes wild with fear. Peter noticed that she was hyperventilating. He stood frozen in place, his hands still held out to her as a peace offering.

After what seemed an eternity, Kara again bowed her head. The electricity around her dissipated, crackling out into the surrounding air. She sank to her knees, crying. Over Kara’s shoulder and through the glass wall, Peter saw Jasper raise a small black control panel, his eyes narrowed in anger at the small girl.

Peter panicked. He couldn’t stand by, couldn’t watch her be hurt. He remembered Jasper’s warnings about the glass, and In an act of desperation, he turned, slamming the side of his fist into the wall. The glass was unharmed, but it accomplished what he’d wanted. Jasper froze, dropping the control panel for Kara’s collar to his side. With a wicked grin, he raised the one that controlled Peter’s instead.

Unbearable pain suddenly lanced through Peter. He felt as if his very nerves were on fire. His knees buckled and black spots clouded his vision. The last thing he saw was Kara rushing over to him, kneeling beside him, before everything went dark.

Chapter Text

Tony Stark was having a rare moment to himself with a cup of coffee and a newspaper when FRIDAY alerted him that she’d received a message from Peter’s AI. Tony furrowed his brow in concern as he wondered which of his many installed protocols Peter had activated this time. “Put her through,” said Tony exasperatedly, setting aside his newspaper.

“Hello, Mr. Stark,” said the AI crisply. Tony thought that Peter had named her Karen. “It is my duty to inform you that Peter has activated the identity breach protocol.”

Tony’s blood ran cold. “Show me the footage,” he demanded.

***

Peter regained consciousness still lying on his back in the glass box. The surrounding room was dark and empty save for the small girl that was sitting cross-legged beside him. Peter groaned, struggling to get an arm under himself. The girl startled violently at his movement, rushing forward and putting a surprisingly strong hand on his chest to keep him on the ground. “Don’t get up too fast!” she warned.

Peter gave in, sliding back onto the ground with another groan. “Wh-what happened?” he asked.

“It should have killed you,” Kara said, looking at Peter in wonder. “Only a few people have survived elimination, and they were a lot bigger than you.”

“I’m stronger than I look,” Peter said, distinctly not feeling it at the moment. He looked down and saw that his collar had been reactivated. “Where is everyone?”

Kara bit her lip, looking down. “Jasper never stays to see if the eliminated person survives. Everyone else went back to their bunks hours ago when you didn’t wake up.”

“ Hours ago?! How long have I been out?”

Kara shrugged. “Maybe four hours?”

Peter sighed heavily. More than half of the time that Wade had promised him had already passed. He had to figure out how to get his hands on enough evidence to bring this place down.

“Why did you do that?” Kara suddenly asked.

“Do what?” asked Peter distractedly.

“Hit the glass. Save me.”

“He was about to eliminate you.”

Kara sniffled. “I’m sorry that I attacked you.”

“Hey, that’s alright,” said Peter comfortingly. “You didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Yes, I did. Just like you did.”

Peter was at a momentary loss for words, but Kara continued unprompted. “I killed my foster father,” she whispered.

Peter’s eyes widened in shock. “Kara--”

“He was hurting me,” she continued. “I just wanted him to stop. I didn’t know… I didn’t mean to…” Kara dissolved into tears, hugging her knees to her chest and crying in earnest. “That’s how I ended up here.”

Peter struggled into a sitting position, wincing at the resulting dizziness. Hesitantly, unsure of what else to do, he held out his arms to Kara. The girl immediately collapsed into Peter, crying onto his shirt.

***

Tony resolved to murder Wade Wilson. Rip him limb from limb, no matter how many times he regenerated. How dare he encourage Peter’s insane and practically suicidal plan? Why on Earth hadn’t Peter called him? There was going to be severe hell to pay, and worse than that if anything had happened to Peter. “FRIDAY?”

“This is his last known position, boss.”

Tony touched down across the street from an abandoned-looking warehouse, scanning the area for any signs of Peter. He looked up at the dilapidated building, eyes narrowed. It was dark outside, but not a single window was lit. “You sure this was the building they mentioned on the footage?” he asked skeptically.

“Confirmative,” said FRIDAY.

Tony began circling the building, taking care not to approach too closely. “FRIDAY, scan for heat signatures.”

“There are several heat signatures throughout the building, boss,” she chimed, pulling up a grid in his visual feed that showed the various occupied floors of the building. “There are also two heat signatures in the alley two blocks to your right.”

Tony veered at once towards the nearby alley. He had a hunch who those two heat signatures belonged to.

***

Kara had cried herself out and was now slumped against Peter’s chest, lightly snoring. Peter wished he had a watch. How much more time did he have before Wade came busting in guns blazing?

Peter sighed, shifting his weight a little in his anxiety. Kara woke with a start. “Sorry I fell asleep,” she mumbled, looking embarrassed.

Peter mussed up her hair. “It’s okay. You’ve gotta listen to me, Kara. I’m gonna get us out of here.”

Kara’s eyes widened in disbelief. “How?” she asked.

“Do you trust me?” asked Peter.

Kara nodded.

“Okay then,” Peter said. “I need to get into the front office. Do you know where Wendy keeps her keys?”

The little girl shook her head. “No,” she said. “But your bunkmate is pretty good at picking locks.”

“Max?” asked Peter incredulously.

Kara nodded. “That’s why he’s here. He picked a lock at the orphanage where he was, tried to make a break for it.”

Peter chewed his lip thoughtfully. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Here’s what we’ll do.”

***

Tony bore down on Wade and Russell, fury and terror for Peter’s safety coursing through him. He didn’t bother to be stealthy, barrelling down the alley with considerable noise. Wade looked up, and was clearly unnerved to see Iron Man stalking towards him.

Tony put up his gauntlets, powering up his blasters with a threatening whine and sliding up his mask to reveal his face. “Is Peter in that warehouse?” he snarled.

Wade put up his hands in a placating gesture. “Look, Iron-dad--”

Tony cut him off with a blast from his repulsor, hard enough to knock Wade off his feet and into the brick wall behind him. “ You encouraged him! You sent him into this! You gave him the fake identity that got him into this shitshow!”

From where he was slumped on the ground, Wade still managed to look surprised at how much information Tony had. “Have you been following us?”

Tony didn’t bother replying. He strode over to Wade, readying his blasters again.

Russell suddenly recovered from the shock of Tony’s sudden appearance, stepping quickly between Tony and Wade. “Look, tin can. It’s not our fault that you can’t keep your son in check. We didn’t make him do this.”

“He’s--” Tony floundered, his eyes widening as the Russell’s hands caught fire.

“Stand down, or face the wrath of Fire Fist.”

Wade groaned. “Come on, Russ, we talked about this.”

Russell flushed. “It’s bad-ass!”

“No, it’s not. It’s--”

Tony interrupted their bickering by firing up his gauntlets again. Russell paled slightly, but stood his ground in front of Wade. “I’m not gonna ask again,” Tony growled. “Is Peter in the fucking warehouse?”

***

Peter couldn’t help but feel incredulous at how easily they’d gained access to the front office. Max had used a simple bobby pin from Kara’s hair to pick the locks on the door and the filing cabinets. Peter went through each file, his heart racing as he looked through document after document. He was disappointed but not altogether surprised to find that not a shred of paper in the cabinets linked Essex to anything other than rehabilitation and treatment.

Giving up on the cabinets, he made his way to Wendy’s computer. He fervently wished that Ned was there; his best friend was much better at hacking than he was. Even with the little that Ned had taught him, however, he was able to quickly bypass the password protection and access the system. He poked around in the hard drive for a full two hours while Kara and Max stood guard outside, acutely aware that every second was bringing him closer to his time limit. He was beginning to reach the miserable conclusion that there was nothing incriminating on the server at all when he unearthed video feeds of the compound.

Peter looked through the feed, hoping to find videos that would incriminate Essex. Instead, he found a live feed of Wendy’s office. His stomach roiled as he saw himself, hunched over the computer. Panicking, he sprang to his feet and made for the door only to come face-to-face with Jasper, who was leering before him.

Chapter Text

***

“Is this written in crayon ?” Tony demanded.

Wade glared at him. “It happens to be a perfectly sound plan for Peter’s extraction.”

Tony groaned. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…. Walk me through it.”

Wade grinned, brandishing the paper beneath Tony’s nose, pointing at two crayon figures in the corner. “So, this is us… oh, shit. I didn’t draw you. Didn’t know you’d be coming--”

Tony watched incredulously as Wade grabbed more crayons out of his duffel bag, drawing a blob in the approximate shape of a Tony’s Iron-Man suit and adorning it with a frowny face. Tony felt his blood pressure rising. “Just get on with it,” he snapped.

“Alright, alright, sheesh. First, Russell is going to barge in through the front door on the bottom level, creating a diversion with his fire hands.” Wade indicated the dotted line connecting a very round stick figure to a large crayon rectangle. “ Then ,” continued Wade dramatically. “ I will sneak in through this entrance, grab Petey-pie, remove his collar, and shove him through this window to relative safety.”

“Your plan is to push him out a window ?!”

“Easy, Iron-dad. It’s a second story window. His healing ability is more than up to it.”

“You’re a lunatic,” Tony said faintly.

Wade continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Once Peter is out, I’ll corral the kids out to safety and go back in to kill everyone else. Russell will then burn the whole thing down. Questions?”

“Just one. What the fuck is wrong with you? We are not doing any of that.”

***

Peter’s heart sank as Jasper entered the room. “I see you survived elimination,” he crooned, making Peter shudder. He gestured over his shoulder and two staff members appeared carrying Kara and Max along with control panels for their power-neutralizing collars. Kara was struggling violently against her captor, but Max hung limply, positively catatonic with fear.

“Let’s see,” Jasper said. “Keeping watch for someone attempting to hack into our computer system… I think that’s definitely grounds for elimination, don’t you?”

Kara visibly paled and Max looked on the verge of losing consciousness. “They had nothing to do with this,” Peter insisted, panicking. “Please. They didn’t know what I was doing. I--threatened them--”

“Risking your own life with this foolishness is one thing, but risking their lives is quite another,” Jasper interrupted. He nodded at the men holding Kara and Max.

“No, wait,” Peter croaked, dread lancing through him.

“What you’re looking for doesn’t exist,” Jasper continued smoothly. “The live monitors you discovered represent the only footage ever taken in this place, none of which is stored with any permanence. Imagine if footage of our noble institute ever reached the general public.”

“Yeah,” Peter said viciously. “Everyone would see how deranged this place is.”

“No, my dear boy. They simply wouldn’t understand. What may resemble cruelty is actually mercy. This is the only treatment proven to successfully repress the unnatural abilities of mutants. With their abnormalities, these children would never be fit to be among normal people. Our treatments are the only thing protecting the very people who would condemn this institute as inhumane.”

“So you torture these kids,” Peter spat. “Force them to fight.”

“For their good,” said Jasper serenely. “And for the good of all. And now, I am going to give you a taste of my mercy. Simply tell me who you are working for and I will allow Kara and Max to return to their cots.”

“Who I’m working for?” asked Peter in confusion.

“Yes. I find it hard to believe that you came up with this plan on your own. I’ll only ask this once. Who are you working for?”

“I’m not working for anyone,” Peter insisted. “I’m here alone.”

Jasper sighed in mock disappointment. He grabbed Kara by the hair, yanking her and the control panel away from the guard who restrained her. He adjusted a knob on the panel and pressed the elimination button. Kara immediately sank to her knees, screaming in pain.

“W-wait! Wait! Stop, I’m telling the truth! It’s just--” Peter froze in the middle of his pleas. He thought he’d just heard a very familiar sound over Kara’s continued screaming, but it couldn’t be…

It was. The familiar whine of the Iron Man gauntlets cut through the room. “Stop whatever you’re doing to the girl,” said a voice that Peter would recognize anywhere as Tony Stark’s. “ Now. ”

Jasper looked staggered at the sudden appearance of Iron Man. He backed rapidly away from Tony with his arms raised. “H-how--?”

“I said ,” Tony repeated dangerously as Kara’s screams continued to rent the air. “Stop.”

Jasper fumbled with the control panel, pressing another button with shaking fingers. Kara’s screams subsided as she slumped to the floor, unconscious.

Peter ran to Kara’s side. “What did you do to her?”

“A sustained non-lethal electric shock,” said Jasper hoarsely. “Painful, but not to the level of true elimination.”

Peter gathered the small girl up into his arms. The other staff member dropped Max to the floor and fled. Max, though clearly still conscious, made no movement.

Peter turned to Tony. “M-Mr. Stark--How did you--why are you--?”

“No time for that now, kid,” said Tony. “Though you and I are gonna have a big talk later. I’ve got the suit recording, so I think we have enough to bring these guys in, what with the blatant abuse of a child and explicit admission of torture and all.”

Jasper made a sound suspiciously close to a whimper. “You’ll all see, with your corruption and your abilities… it’s unnatural, playing God.” He spat at Tony’s feet. “What do you understand of our holy work?”

Tony ignored him. “How do you remove the collars?” he barked at Jasper.

Jasper balked, but said nothing.

Tony grabbed Jasper by the throat, slamming him into the nearest wall. “I’m not going to ask you again,” he growled, allowing Jasper to slip through his fingers to the floor. Jasper gasped, scrambling to his feet and began deactivating Kara’s collar with her control panel.

“The feds are on their way,” Tony muttered to Peter. “We just need to hold the staff here long enough for them to get here. I’ve got this guy, you go and--”

The sound of screaming from the floor above interrupted him.

“Damn it,” said Tony. “I specifically told him…”

***

Peter ran towards the screams and came across two dismembered staff members on the stairs. He tried not to look at them too closely as he slipped on the bloody stairs. Finally, he scrambled to the top and found Wade in the first open room stalking up and down with his katanas as the one living staff member attempted to evade him, screaming. There was a large group of orphans cowering in the hallway, out of sight of the carnage.

“He told us not to go in there!” one of the boys shouted after Peter as he rushed towards Wade.

Peter ran forward, stepping in front of Wade as he lunged at the staff member with his katanas. “Wait! Wade, we’ve got what we need, stop !”

“I gave you your time,” Wade bellowed, looking unhinged.

For the first time, Peter felt frightened of Wade. “W-wait--”

“These fucking bastards were torturing these kids when I got in here,” said Wade murderously. “Calling them freaks, burning shit into their skin… no. These guys need to die .”

“Wade, we have the footage. These guys will go away…”

“They don’t deserve to go away. They deserve to die. And if you and the Iron Giant aren’t willing to get your hands dirty, then I will. Now get the hell out of my way kid. Don’t make me hurt you.”

Peter felt a spike of adrenaline at that, but he pushed on, grabbing Wade’s wrist. “Please! Wade. Please. What about Russell?”

For a moment, Wade paused. “I know,” he said heavily, still panting with exertion. “But some fuckers have to die. I don’t want Russell to get the taste that will turn him into what Cable saw in the future. But I’ve had the taste, already. I control it to scum like this, but there’s no stopping it. Now get out of my way. ”

The staff member behind Peter looked too shocked to take the opportunity to flee. He still cowered on the floor, his eyes wide and his shaking hands up in front of his face. Wade brandished his katanas threateningly, and in a moment of sheer desperation Peter grabbed the blade of one of the swords.

Wade snarled, lurching backwards as blood poured from Peter’s hand. “What the hell are you doing? You’re still wearing that fucking collar!”

“Stop,” said Peter, his voice cracking. “Just--stop. Please. ”

Wade blinked at him as if he were coming out of some sort of daze.  He looked around him, staring out at the hallway where the kids were hiding. He looked down at Peter, who was still holding tightly to the blade even though his hand was bleeding profusely without his healing factor. Wade shut his eyes for a moment, then sighed. “Let go, Petey,” said Wade.  Peter heard something in Wade’s tone that convinced him to oblige and Wade lowered the katanas. After a few moments of strained silence between them, Russell came thundering down the stairs from the upper level of the building. “We need to go. This whole place is going up,” he said.

“Anyone still upstairs?” asked Peter.

Russell shook his head. “What the hell happened to your hand?”

Peter ignored Russell and turned to Wade. “Come on,” he said.

Wade sheathed his katanas, still looking dazed. He nodded.

***

“Anonymously submitted footage has ensured the imprisonment of the former headmaster and several staff members of Essex School for Mutant Rehabilitation in the Bronx. Grisly accounts of torture and neglect have been gathered from victims of the school. The children are now being placed in other homes.”

Peter, Wade, Tony, Russell, and Al listened to the news report in Wade’s apartment just hours after the incident. Russell looked palpably relieved, as if he was relaxing for the first time since his own imprisonment in Essex. Tony was carefully bandaging Peter’s hand, shooting dark looks at Wade.

“Well,” said Wade. “It seems that my plan really ensured that this turned out for the best.”

“Don’t push it,” grumbled Tony. He turned to Peter. “You and I are going to have a long talk about fraternizing with lunatics.”

Peter snorted, taking another slice of the pizza that Wade had insisted on ordering.

“Russell is not a lunatic,” Wade said hotly.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Come on, Pete.”

“So wait,” said Wade. “You guys aren’t gonna turn me in for what I did back there?”

Tony raised his eyebrows in mock confusion. “Everyone still in the building died in the fire.”

Wade cocked his head, then realized what Tony was doing. “Yeah,” he said. “Sounds about right.”

Peter felt a little uncomfortable at that, but Tony put his hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“Wait,” said Wade. “Can I have a minute with the kid?”

“Absolutely not,” said Tony, but Peter put up his hand.

“It’s okay, Mr. Stark. I’ll be down in a minute.”

Tony frowned, but nodded. “Just one, Parker. I’ll be waiting for you.” He left the apartment, heading for his car.

Wade looked suddenly awkward. “Look, kid… I… thanks.”

Peter furrowed his brow. “For what?”

“For reminding me that there are still things worth--restraining myself for.” Wade looked over fondly at Russell, who was snoring loudly on the couch. “I’m sorry I got you involved in this mess. I never should have sent you in there.”

Peter gave Wade a half-grin. “Maybe not,” he said. “Spider-Man on the other hand… he can handle pretty much anything.”

Wade gave a low chuckle. “In that case, let me know when Spider-Man wants to team up again. I owe him one.”

“You got it.” With that, Peter waved goodbye to Wade, heading out for Tony’s car.