Chapter Text
Another prickle ran down Peter's neck, this one more prominent than the last, making his hair stand on end. It was getting unnerving, to say the least. He felt like he was in danger, and he could be, but his sixth sense--Ned had labeled it as his 'Spidey Sense' which he didn't like to much--was often unreliable. It would freak out over the smallest issues and wouldn't even bat an eye or notice bigger threats, like the Vulture. Like how he didn't even notice what he was planning, the pillars going out one by one, the rubble, he couldn't fucking breathe-
"Peter, honey! How about takeout instead? I can't seem to get this risotto to work out."
That's right. He was in his apartment with Aunt May, not stuck in that warehouse, who was attempting to cook a homemade dinner, as she always did. That was their new tradition on Wednesdays. After she had found out about him being Spider-Man she required he take one weekday off, so Wednesday it was, and she always had some kind of special meal planned for them on that day. However, like tonight apparently, they almost always ended up doing takeout. He didn't mind though, it was nice just to spend time with her. The more he thought about their recent tradition the more he felt grounded to the present, not the fight. His breaths soon became even and rhythmic.
"Peter?" his Aunt asked again, peering at him from the kitchen with a concerned gaze. He quickly snapped himself back into reality.
"Sure, that sounds good," he reassured her, "Do you want me to help clean up the kitchen?"
They both took a sweeping look over the messy kitchen, there were pots and pans crowding the sink, the counters were messy with scattered rice and vegetables that hadn't quite made it to the cooking stage. They shared an exasperated look at their mess of cooking skills. Peter offered May a smile as he got off of the couch where he had been picking out a movie before he started freaking out over his senses. Speaking of, it just kept getting stronger and it was overwhelming him. But, he ignored it and walked over to May when she replied with a 'yes please' and went to go order their favorite, Thai.
As she picked up the phone he began to work on the dishes in the sink, deciding it was the most practical place to start. He always liked to get the harder part done first anyway. It was a good distraction too. If he concentrated enough on rubbing off dried food he could almost numb the tingling of his senses now pounding against the base of his skull and tingling up his arms. In a couple minutes May joined him, wiping off the counter, asking about how school was, Decathlon practice, and if anything interesting had happened with Ned or Michelle. He responded in kind and they easily fell back into their comfortable rhythm.
It had been about ten minutes when Peter realized something had to be wrong. There was absolutely no way that his senses would act up like this for so long, and at such an immense pressure. So, now about done with the dishes, Peter listened hard to anything going on within the building, trying to find anything out of place. It seemed busier than normal, but it wasn't too far away from summer break, only a couple of weeks, so it was probably just people traveling. Still, he turned to May.
"Can we turn on the news?" he asked, trying to keep his face unconcerned, he didn't want to worry May. Maybe whatever was wrong was on the news. Unfortunately, his voice cracked.
"Sure, honey. But I still wanna watch The Sound of Music, " she responded, not noticing--maybe just not acknowledging--the strain in his voice.
Just as Peter picked up the remote his senses gave a final pushing scream before footsteps crowded around his apartment door and smashed it down. In a flash, Peter had jumped to the over the couch for cover.
"DUCK!!!" he yelled at May, trying to warn her of the oncoming danger.
Footsteps thundered around him as his senses continued to pound. He heard his Aunt scream that was abruptly muffled as though somebody had shoved something into her mouth. It sent Peter into a panic and he leaped up in desperation to get to his aunt. He jumped up from behind the couch, narrowly avoiding someone dressed in black who reached out in an attempt to grab him. However, there were at least fifty people dressed in black, and more tried to subdue him and grab him.
Someone grabbed his arm and he threw a punch in their direction, relishing in the crack he heard and rushed on, only managing to make it a few feet before three more intercepted him. He dodged past them and was intercepted by more. And more and more and more. In fact they seem to just keep coming. They circle around him threateningly, closing him in, and more people pile up, effectively trapping him. Crap. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap. Hands are on him before he can make another move. They swarm over him, pulling his hair, restraining his arms, hitting him and choking him. He continued to struggle, fighting and kicking his attackers.
Thwack! He finally stilled at the hard punch to his stomach. Tears welled up in his eyes as his arms were fully restrained and he was forced to kneel over.
"Make one more move, Маленький паук, and we will not hesitate to shoot your Aunt over there," growled a low and husky voice. Fear filled his body at the mention of his Aunt. He needed to protect her, she was all he had, but moving could put her in greater danger. Why hadn’t he listened to his senses earlier!!? He looked up from the floor, his eyes wide, and examined who he guessed was the leader of...whoever these guys were. Peter's eyes met another set of brown ones, which stared back icily in response to his defiant expression.
"Who are you assholes anyway?" Peter quipped, not breaking eye contact, keeping all of the attention he could on himself instead of his Anut. The man however, merely chuckled. Though his expression was lost to his mask.
"You will learn soon enough, Маленький паук," the man looked up and said something to his man in a language he thought was maybe Russian, what does Маленький паук mean anyway? "Alright, take him away."
Peter began struggling again, wherever these guys were going take him, he sure as hell was going to put up a fight. The men holding him down pushed against his strength, calling more soldiers to aid in restraining the enhanced teen. Suddenly a muffled cry was heard through his struggling. May was pushed in front of him, shaking all over, and a gag in her mouth. Her glasses were broken and her eyes teary. He immediately stilled at the sight, but began to struggle harder when he recognized the danger, throwing the men off of him and making an effort to stand, even as more men pulled at him.
A gun was pushed against his Aunt's head, the same brown eyes glared down at him again. At his struggle, the man clad in black pushed the gun closer, if that was even possible, to May's head.
"Comply and willingly go with us or things might not go so well for your Aunt here, Маленький паук," he growled out again. Peter immediately stopped moving, he couldn't force himself to relax, but he would force himself to remain as still as fear would allow him for May, "There's a good Spider."
Peter's brain short circuited at the comment, his eyes widening comically. They knew. How could they possibly know? He was always so careful and-
A sharp jab in his shoulder cut him off from his panicked thoughts and he looked down to see a needle being pulled back out from his shoulder. That's not good...
A muffled, "Peter!" caught his attention and he turned away from his shoulder to look at his Aunt. He could already feel whatever drug they had given him taking effect as his vision blurred at the edges. Whatever it was, it was effective, even on him, and he immediately lost his balance, falling onto one knee. The world was swirling around him despite his body fighting off whatever had been injected into his bloodstream. Black spots danced around his vision, his hearing became muffled and when he tried to speak he found his tongue felt like lead. He still tried to comfort his Aunt, though.
"I-I love you, May," he muffled out, not knowing if she had heard him or not. Suddenly a gag tightened around his mouth and it was the last thing he remembered before the world went black around him.
The arachnid had finally been overpowered and lay at his feet on the floor. It's Aunt was weeping and shaking all over, clearly stricken by what had just occurred. Well, he thought, that's what you get when you consort with such animals. As much as he despised mutants, they were very effective in controlling people, and the one that was being tied up in front of him would be the strongest he had collected yet. But, this brute was defiant, he could tell, and would take a while to break. It would be worth it though, it would however, all go to waste, if word got out it was missing before they even had a chance to escape with it. He turned to the now very angry woman in front of him, who still had a gun to her head, provided by one of his soldiers.
"I am very sorry, Mrs. Parker, but that thing you call your nephew is very important to our cause, though I doubt you would agree," he told her icily, watching as her eyes narrowed at him. Where earlier she had been shaking in fear, she now shook in infinite rage. He sighed. Deep down he knew it would come to this, "Thank you for your cooperation, Mrs. Parker."
And with that he turned on his heel and followed the rest of his men out the door, not even flinching at the sound of a gunshot ringing through the air. He had the mutant, and that was all he needed.
“Hail Hydra,” he murmured to himself triumphantly.
The first thing he noticed when he woke up was the cold. The unbearable, prickling cold. It jabbed at his skin and made his eyes water. Peter blinked away the tears in his eyes. Why was it so cold? And why was he so uncomfortable? Then it all flooded back. The break in, the injection, May-oh god, May. How would she have gotten out of that situation?
His thoughts were racing, his heart pumping fast, way too fast, he realized with a dim awareness. It took Peter a moment to realize how much he was freaking out, and that if he ever wanted to get out, he would really need to calm down. So, he pushed his anxiety into a box in the back of his mind where he kept all of his other anxieties. Thinking fast, he surveyed where he was for the first time.
He was sitting on an extremely thin and uncomfortable cot that was located in the far left corner of, what he assumed was, his cell(his room?). Whatever it was, it was cold, dark, gray and small, like, extremely small. There were no windows and it was entirely made out of stone, more specifically concrete, he guessed. The only thing that broke out of the smooth stone was the large metal door.
It was gray, like the rest of the cell, but was shinier than anything there. Despite the extreme lack of light he could still pick up a sheen. Wherever he was being held, that door was obviously his only way out. Peter got up gingerly to go examine it but stopped short when he saw something he hadn't registered earlier. A camera. It was small, round, and just barely poked out of the ceiling. Of course whoever had taken him was monitoring him. He didn't particularly like that thought. To be honest though, he didn't really like this entire thing. It was pretty unenjoyable.
Okay, so, he was who-knows-where trapped in a cell, considering that the man who had taken him knew he was Spider-Man it was likely reinforced to hold him, with no real way of communicating with Mr. Stark. He also didn't know how long he had been gone, but May had likely already alerted someone that he had been taken(he didn't dare think she hadn't made it). If Peter wanted a plan he was going to have to wait for more information or he would have no way to actually escape.
Just as he came to his conclusion the door burst open and five men dressed in black flooded through the door. Four headed straight for Peter, who tried to dodge out of the way, but didn't have enough space to even move a foot. There were two on each arm and they pinned him to the wall harshly, slightly knocking the breath out of him. He struggled against them fruitlessly, more putting up a fight for show and to let these guys know he wasn't giving up.
"Your efforts are useless, Маленький паук," rumbled a voice that made him freeze. The wide-eyed teen looked up to see the man who had been in his apartment, though now without his mask. His eyes were a light brown, he was clean shaven and his blond hair was gelled back. He looked extremely normal, and not at all what he imagined his kidnapper to look like.
"Who are you?" Peter choked out, trying to keep his fear from his voice, cursing himself when it wavered, "And what do you want?"
"Like I said earlier, you will find out soon enough, Spider-Man, " he answered mockingly. Breaking eye contact with Peter, the man nodded at the guards still restraining him. He was then being dragged out by his arms, though he didn't go without kicking and screaming.
A soft, "Hail Hydra, " reached his ears before he was completely removed from the room.