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He was screwed. Utterly, ridiculously screwed.
Waking up alone in a room without windows was probably the biggest cliché kidnapping story he ever heard of and laughed at the idea. How did he even get there? He couldn’t remember being taken in the first place, so… How?
Peter sat up and looked around the place. It was square, the walls were concrete and there was a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. The only source of light. On the other hand, fun fact: no way out. Literally. Where in God’s name was the door? He started panicking. How do you get out of a room without an exit? How do you even get into a room without an entrance?
That had to be a dream. A really, really bad dream. A freaking nightmare. He needed to wake up. He nipped his skin. Didn’t work. He slapped his face. No result. What the heck was going on?
“Okay, Peter, focus,” he told himself, which actually helped the boy calm down a little, “you need to find a way outta here.”
Taking a deep breath he stood up. Figure it out, he thought, just like an equation. Firstly, he needed to check on himself. He was wearing his casual clothes and was (thank you, Parker luck) shoeless. No injuries, which was a good start, but no cell phone either. He started examining every single aspect of his surroundings. For a concrete cell with no way out the room was surprisingly… clean. Not a speck of dust. How does one tidy a place they can’t get into? He was so, so confused. The strangest part was his spidey-sense was weirdly quiet. Well, as quiet as it ever was. But that was good news – meant no one was watching him. He was free to use his powers. He walked to the nearest wall and took a deep breath.
Crack.
“Not so intimidating now, are you?” he smirked at the huge, satisfying crevice in the concrete. Ignoring the blood on his knuckles, he punched again. And again. And again.
By the time the wall went down, he was panting.
“I don’t wanna fat shame you or anything, but damn they made ya thick.”
On the other side was a long corridor with more walls made of concrete. Still no windows or doors. He felt anxiety starting to kick in. There were more lightbulbs on the ceiling, keeping the hallway visible. Which way was he supposed to go? He looked right and saw a dead end.
Left it was.
He started running shoeless on the rough surface. Peter moved his legs as fast as he could, and man was he fast. However, the corridor was still extremely long. By the time he made it to the nearest turn, he couldn’t breathe. Had it not been for his superhuman stamina, he would’ve collapsed halfway. Suddenly, he stopped.
Spider sense.
It erupted like a volcano in the back of his head, foreshadowing something big. With nowhere else to run, Peter climbed the wall and rested in the darkest corner of the ceiling and, hoping he would not be spotted, listened. He couldn’t hear any steps, voices, anything. He was on the edge of a panic attack and the complete silence around him was making him even more nervous. The worst part of it was that he didn’t have a mask. Peter didn’t care about being in the suit in that moment, of course having an AI on his side would definitely come in handy, and protecting his identity was not an issue since he was abducted as Peter Parker not Spider-Man, which meant whoever took him probably knew about his powers because, let’s get real, what would anyone want from Peter Parker? He wasn’t rich, no one knew (and those who did didn’t believe him anyway) about his connection to Mr. Stark, so unless he was a random victim of child trafficking, they knew his secret.
Man, that’s so messed up.
Not having a mask meant no way to hide his fear. That was the issue there.
“I know you’re here,” a female voice said. He knew that voice. Peter looked at the figure standing in the shadows. She took a few steps forward.
“Ms. Romanoff?” he whispered. That didn’t sound right. Why would Black Widow be there? Had she been taken too? She was leaning against the wall, dressed in her suit, arms crossed, looking up at him in boredom. “What happened? Are you okay? Where are we? Why- “
“Hush, little spider,” she interrupted, “I need you to get down from there and come with me.” Her voice was indifferent. Peter wasn’t exactly expecting the former assassin to openly express her feelings but if something was wrong she would tell him, right? He didn’t know her well, but they fought together in Germany. Sure, she was considered a war criminal by the UN but still… Black Widow was a heroine. And he trusted her. He jumped down.
“Follow me,” she said and turned around, walking away. He did as told, despite his spidey-sense warning him it was a bad idea. What harm could possibly come upon him from an Avenger of all people?
Yeah, maybe a Rogue but still an Avenger, nonetheless.
They walked in silence, Peter being on high alert, his senses perpetually tingling. Natasha clearly had nothing to say to him and the teenager was a little too intimidated and starstruck to say anything intelligent. Therefore, he kept quiet.
They reached the end of the hallway with an enormous metal door. Peter’s spidey-sense went haywire. Natasha must’ve noticed his hesitation because she put her hand on his back and pushed him inside as soon as the door opened. He didn’t resist.
The first thing that hit him was the brightness of the room, a huge contrast comparing to the dark corridor. He narrowed his eyes. Next thing he noticed was the antiseptic smell of a hospital. He was painfully aware of the incessant tingling in the back of his neck. The boy could hear people talking around him. He tried to seek out Natasha’s voice, hoping he could find comfort in it. Unfortunately, she was silent.
A panic attack was coming. He could feel it in his bones.
Suddenly, the voices stopped. As well as he was able to see through his narrowed eyes, he spotted a figure coming his way.
“Hello, enhanced individual,” some man exclaimed excitedly. Peter could by then see a little more as his vision was slowly adjusting to the light, “Oh, no! I see you’re injured,” the man clicked his tongue in puzzlement. Peter had no idea what was going on, but it appeared he was right – they indeed knew he was Spider-Man. The thought was frightening, albeit he needed to put fear aside in that moment. He had to let his alter ego take control of his body and mind if he wanted to survive that.
“That’s not your job, Radcliffe,” Black Widow reprimanded the man, who approached Peter. The teenager could fully open his eyes by then. The man standing in front of him was wearing a lab coat, just like every other person in the room, except for Natasha. Radcliffe, as she called him, was visibly terrified of her and took a step back. Peter used their absent-mindedness to look around the place. In the middle of the room was a hospital bed, surrounded by IVs. There was a gargantuan, dirty mirror on the back wall. The walls on his left and right contained only cabinets. The one behind him – nothing but the metal door. He counted five other scientists in lab coats, all of them watching his every move.
Radcliffe quickly recovered from his little dismay and soon his attention was again on Peter.
“Yes, yes, of course, Agent Romanoff, you are absolutely right, as usual.” Wait, Agent? But wasn’t she a former one? Like, wanted-by-the-state former one? Peter was so confused. “Boy, we need you to sit right there,” Radcliffe said, pointing on the bed.
No way.
“Don’t worry my aunt is not an anti-vaxxer, I don’t need an examination,” he announced with a light smile and tried withdrawing, when his back hit someone’s chest.
“Sorry, little spider. I’m afraid this is crucial.”
“B-But why?” He turned around to look the Rogue Avenger in the face. “What’s going on? What is this for? A-and where’s Mr. Stark?”
“I’m really sorry, but I cannot tell you anything until you let the doctors examine you,” she told him, not looking sorry at all.
Every cell in Peter’s body was advising him against it, but he needed those answers. So, he did the stupidest thing he could possibly do.
He complied.
“That’s great. Now since this is going to take a while, I shall introduce myself,” Radcliffe cheerfully announced, “My name is Dr. Holden Radcliffe and I’m a consultant for S.H.I.E.L.D., maybe you’ve heard about me? No? Shame. Well, anyways, I have the honor of conducting your examination today.”
Peter in fact heard of Dr. Radcliffe, unfortunately he couldn’t quite place it. The scientist seemed like a nice family doctor, but Peter knew the type. Radcliffe was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. The man rolled up the boy’s sleeves, preparing a heplock. Another scientist approached him, in attempt to disinfect his antecubitis. It was a young woman, not older than thirty with a warm smile. Peter let her sanitize his skin but moved his arm away as soon as Radcliffe came back with the PVC. The man sighed.
“Boy, you need to understand, we have to do this.”
“Do what exactly?” Peter asked, still awaiting answers.
“Alright, Radcliffe, that’s enough. He isn’t cooperating. Romanoff, your turn,” Peter heard a male voice he definitely knew coming from the ceiling. Oh, so the mirror wasn’t a mirror after all. How surprising.
“I’m warning you, little spider,” Black Widow sounded irritated, “do not test us. You don’t want to go that path, trust me.”
“How I am supposed to trust you if you won’t even tell me what’s going on?!” Peter snapped. He’d had enough of that. He wanted answers. He wanted them in that second. “Please, Ms. Romanoff. I must know.”
Natasha was adamant while putting her hand on his throat and cutting his breath. That’s when he felt tingling in the back of his neck. Thanks, spidey-sense, Peter thought sarcastically, perfect timing.
“Do it now,” she ordered.
Peter was choking. He wanted to push Black Widow away, but suddenly five people were holding him down, while Radcliffe injected him the IV. Oh God, oh God, oh God. What were they injecting him? Was that a sedative? General anesthetic? He was so, so, so screwed. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t move... And then he remembered.
He still had legs.
His knee kicked Natasha in the back with all the strength he had. She went flying and hit the opposite wall. Once he could breathe again thinking was easier. He broke free from the scientists’ hold and yanked out the IV from his arm.
“I hope that wasn’t heroin ‘cause my aunt would probably castrate me for doing drugs,” he quipped and punched Radcliffe in the face. Just because he could.
“Your jokes are terrible,” one of the scientists said.
“Ouch, that hurt,” Peter dramatically put his hand on his chest, “Well, this was nice and all, but I gotta keep goin’. Bye, fellas,” he jumped on the ceiling and started moving towards the door. But then, he realized there was another option.
“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the maddest scientist of them all?”, he crawled to the back wall and jumped straight onto the glass.
A moment later thousands of sharp pieces were laying all over the floor. His clothes and hair were covered in broken glass. He felt blood on his face, running from a slash on his cheek. However, a small wound was nothing compared to what he saw on the other side of the mirror.
“Captain?” Peter whispered. Right in front of him stood Captain America in full gear, crossing his arms. How could the former leader of the Avengers just stand there and watch?
“You shouldn’t have done that, kid,” answered the super soldier, “now it’s gonna get nasty.”
Spidey-sense kicked in hard and Peter ducked from the punch, Steve sent his way. The boy jumped high and stuck to the ceiling. He didn’t have his suit, he didn’t have Karen and, most importantly, his web-shooters. He had to fight Captain freaking America without his web-shooters.
Well, shit.
He had jumped back down before the vibranium shield could hit him. He charged at the man and did a jump spin back kick whacking his face. The Captain lost his balance, reeling back, which prevented him from catching the shield coming back. Peter attempted to punch the soldier in the stomach, but his opponent stopped the kid’s fist before it connected with its target and, using all of his strength, Steve booted him. He went flying across the room and ended up hitting the opposite wall, breaking the concrete it had been made of.
Ouch.
Captain America slowly walked to him, “Give up, kid. You know, you can’t win this fight.”
Peter felt nauseous. He was pretty sure he had a concussion but couldn’t just quit. He was Spider-Man for God’s sake. He couldn’t just give up.
He stood up on shaky legs and raised his chin. Steve just sighed and charged at him once again. Peter dodged the first punch, thank you spidey-sense, keep making amends for Widow’s choking kink, and kicked the man in his shin. As soon as the Captain fell down, Peter bolted straight for the door out of the room.
Which wasn’t there.
What the hell?
The brunet crawled up the nearest wall, looking for any way out. How would anyone even get into this room without an entrance?
That’s just déjà vu. His head was spinning, he felt nausea again. Spider sense kicked in again and Peter jumped to his left - the farthest, darkest corner of the area. Little did he know, there was no escaping that.
Fortunately, his shoeless feet still stuck to the wall, keeping him in place, when he needed to use his hands to cover his ears from the injurious sound. He felt like his head would explode any second. Never had he ever in his entire existence been in such agony. His whole body was trembling as he felt his feet unstick from the concrete. The fall wasn’t even close to painful, as everything Peter was focused on was that noxious tone. He felt like he was on fire, like every cell in his body was slowly exploding, like his insides were squeezed tight and elongated everlastingly. And all that was coming from his head, his brain the hypocenter of all the torment. He didn’t know he had been screaming until his throat turned sore. He just wanted it to end.
He couldn’t tell the exact moment he passed out from the inexplicable pain.
Tony was in his lab, working on a new prototype of the Mark 50 armor, when FRIDAY notified him of an incoming call from Happy. He told the AI to tune down AC/DC and answer the phone.
“Hey Hap. Fancy hearing from you this beautiful day.”
“The kid’s not picking up.”
Tony stopped tinkering and straightened, looking up at the ceiling, “What?”
“He isn’t picking up, boss. He’s always on his phone, texting me a hundred times a day. He’s never ignored me before and suddenly I can’t reach him. Already tried six times and I’m not gonna call the seventh.”
“Well,” Tony shrugged and came back to working, “seven is believed to be a lucky number in some countries.”
“I’m serious, Tony. His tracker is offline.”
At that, he flabbergasted.
“What do you mean offline?”
Peter woke up on the floor, feeling cold metal on his neck. All he remembered was the pain in his head, which wasn’t there anymore. He lifted his eyelids but was instantly blinded by the light. He whined quietly.
“Well, well, well. Looks like someone’s awake,” a male voice greeted him by far too loud.
“Get up, kid. Let us see the amazing Spider-Man in all his glory,” another added.
“Patience, boys. Maybe he’s just shy,” a female one said.
The thing was, he knew those voices.
He tried opening his eyes again, this time obliterating the light with his hand. He was in a small cell, wearing a blue prison uniform. Looking around, he noticed one of the walls was replaced by glass with horizontal bars. He sat up.
“The you go, boy. Wasn’t that hard now, was it?”
Peter looked through the glass wall to see more cells like his own filled with none other than the Rogue Avengers.
“W-What’s going on? Why are you guys here? A-And where’s here?” Peter asked perplexed.
“We’re exactly where we belong for defying the law,” Falcon answered, “and that includes you.”
“But I didn’t do anything wrong!” Peter exclaimed “On the contrary - I’ve been helping the police catch bad guys, saving people from getting mugged, I even-”
“But you aren’t allowed to do those things. You became a vigilante by working on your own, playing judge, jury and executioner and yet you still dare to assert that you did not do anything wrong?” Captain America was staring at him straight in the eye. Peter didn’t dare looking away.
“You’re on the Raft, little spider. A supermax underwater prison you can’t escape from,” Natasha helpfully glossed.
“And why are you here too?” Peter asked, still sitting on the floor, trying to be as small as possible under Steve’s drilling gaze.
“Because we’re criminals,” Black Widow explained simply, “just like you.”
Out of the blue Peter’s spidey-sense tingled. Seconds later he felt nauseous and everything went black.
When he woke up again the lights were dimmed and the Rogues sleeping. All except one person. Between Cap’s and Sam Wilson’s cells was another one, which resident certainly wasn’t asleep. He was staring right back at Peter and the teenager got serious chills. It was the man from the airport battle, the one with the metal arm. Winter Soldier.
“H-Hi, sir,” Peter mumbled silently, but the man did not answer. Instead he kept glaring at the boy for what seemed like eternity. Peter once again could not bring himself to look away. He swallowed hard. Then again – spider sense.
Suddenly, the assassin jumped forward to the glass and smashed it with his metal fist. All the lights flashed red, blinding him and the alarm howled. Peter closed his eyes and covered his ears. His body collapsed on the floor, trying to somehow get away from it all. He felt like his tympanic membranes would go kablooey any second. Peter started trembling, wanting nothing more and for the floor to consume him whole. Too loud. Too bright. Too loud. Too bright. Too loud. Too bright. Too much.
Winter Soldier was coming straight at him and there he was – laying on the floor, having a freaking sensory overload.
Typical Parker Luck.
Sergeant Barnes didn’t stop. Where were the guards? Weren’t they supposed to be watching the inmates and prohibit them from escaping? Peter heard the creaking of metal as the bars to his cell were crushed. Then there was the sound of glass breaking and he was doomed.
The former HYDRA assassin scooped him up by the shirt. Peter’s eyes were still closed, and he did not want to open them to see Barnes’ face. He simply wanted it all to end. The man’s words were an overwhelming addition to his tender and sore ears.
“So young - already - stupid,” he heard snatches of Barnes’ words, “-wouldn’t mind.”
The first punch landed on his face, while the man still kept him in his grasp. He was pretty sure the metal broke his nose. Too much. He couldn’t do that, not then, not ever.
“S-stop,” Peter mumbled, “please stop.”
But it didn’t stop. It kept going on. The next punch smashed his guts and sent him flying across the cell. His body hit the wall and collapsed on the floor. He felt like he was underwater.
“P-please. Stop,” Peter cried, trying to beg again, unsuccessfully.
Winter Soldier started kicking him. The howl of the alarm and the concussion he was pretty sure he had prevented him from hearing the crack of his own bones, but Peter could still feel it. He could still feel every single bone being crushed, just like he could feel the tears on his face. Why was this happening? What had he done to deserve a beating from another super soldier? The next kick was aimed at his chest, taking the air out of his lungs. He couldn’t breathe.
Beaten, crying, aching and broken, he passed out.
“I don’t fucking care he’s busy, let me go!” Tony barks at the guards. Finding Ross was easy, figuring out Peter was with him even easier when the school’s surveillance recorded Thunderbolt himself talking to the kid on the parking lot and the two of them getting into a car.
“The Secretary can’t and won’t talk to you right now,” the annoyed guard repeated, “You can call his personal assistant to make an appointment.”
“Listen, Anna Loginova, your boss is in there with a minor, whose legal guardian is gonna eviscerate me if anything happens to him. So, move or be moved,” his tone turned threatening.
“Mr. Stark, for the last time-”
A scream was heard from behind the door, a child’s scream. Tony saw red.
“Enough of this,” he shoved the guards and squeezed by them, opening the door. Inside he found Thaddeus Ross, looking through a glass wall. Tony looked as well and quickly regretted it.
Peter was laying on a hospital bed, his limbs restrained and a helmet on his head. His face pictured nothing but pain and agony, but his screams weren’t audible anymore.
“What are you doing to him?” Tony mumbled through gritted teeth.
“I could have you suspended for this, Stark,” Ross warned him, turning away from the scene in front of them. Tony noticed a scientist checking Peter’s vitals on a monitor and writing them down.
“He’s a minor.”
“He’s an enhanced individual and that makes him dangerous,” Thunderbolt stated, “his age is irrelevant. We have yet to test his abilities and implant him a tracker.”
“Let me say this once again, since you clearly didn’t hear,” Tony was trying really hard to keep his emotions at bay, “This is a fucking child you’re torturing. I knew you were a son of a bitch, but I was hoping you knew where to draw the line.”
“You signed the Accords, Stark. You do realize I am not doing anything illegal here, right?” Ross looked at him smugly.
“But he didn’t!” he couldn’t play Ross’ games. If war was what Thunderbolt wanted, he would get one.
“You said it yourself, he’s a minor. He can’t sign the Accords yet. We will keep him contained until he’s of age,” the Secretary declared like the most obvious thing in the world.
“He’s got an aunt waiting for him to come home. You can’t keep him imprisoned for three years, that’s sick,” Tony felt nausea. All of the Avengers had to sign, but Spider-Man wasn’t an Avenger. He was just a kid who wanted to look out for the little guy. A child with the purest heart he’d ever seen.
“If you have any objection regarding the system, you can file an official complaint to the UN. As for now we’re finished here. Johnson, Hernandez,” Ross addressed the guards, “please escort Mr. Stark out.”
The gauntlet formed around his hand within seconds, pointing to the men. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he threatened.
“That’s it, Stark! Stand down now or I’m putting you on the Raft,” the Secretary’s face turned purple.
“No, thanks. Now if you don’t mind, I’m gonna get my kid and go home. He’s got homework to do.”
He turned around and fired a repulsor, shuttering the glass. He heard Ross shouting orders, but in all honesty he couldn’t care less. He had a child to save.
“Peter? Peter wake up,” Tony shook the boy’s body. Nothing happened. He looked at the scientist, “What have you done to him?”
“He’s in a simulation, sir. Waking him up now is dangerous, I strongly advise against that,” the woman replied.
“For God’s sake, Stark. You are going to reg-”
Tony couldn’t take it anymore, “Shut the fuck up, Ross, or I’ll blow your ass to kingdom come,” he looked at the woman again, “How do I wake him up?”
“You need to end the simulation,” she stated.
“Bravo, genius. How do I do that?”
In response she took the helmet off Peter’s head.
“Just like that, genius.”
All right, so maybe not all of Ross’ minions were so bad after all. Which doesn’t change the fact that it didn’t wake the kid up. Before he could ask the question, the scientist answered:
“Give him time. I have no idea what he saw in there, but his body is completely exhausted,” the woman explained. However, he could feel there was more, “Physically, he’s fine. His mental health is what I’m worried about.”
“Yeah, no shit,” that wasn’t helpful, “Anybody who tries to stop me gets fried with plasma,” he declared and scooped the kid up bridal style. He was surprisingly lightweight.
“You won’t get away with this, Stark, you hear me? The UN will-” Ross didn’t get to finish his sentence.
“Well,” Tony took one last look at the former general, “Mr. Stark can’t and won’t talk to you right now. You can call his personal assistant to make an appointment.”
And with that, he left.
Peter woke up on the softest mattress ever. He was surprised not to be in pain, for all he could remember before passing out was having a concussion and getting his ass handed to him by two super soldiers. How long was he asleep anyway? He opened his eyes, being immediately blinded by the lights. He groaned out.
“Sorry, kid. A little too bright, huh? Fri?”, a familiar voice said.
“On it, boss,” a mechanic one replied.
Suddenly, there was a lot darker. Peter tried opening his eyes once again. He was in a bedroom a lot bigger than his own, judging by the movie posters, science textbooks and action figures around, definitely belonging to a nerd. On a swivel chair in front of the bed, sat Tony Stark.
“Mr. Stark?” Peter mumbled.
“In the flesh, kid. How are you feeling?”
“You didn’t tell me I had to sign the Accords,” Peter said bluntly, looking straight at his mentor. Tony froze.
“What?” the man asked incredulously. “You’re a minor, you don’t have to sign anything.”
“But Captain America said I will be a criminal if don’t sign ‘em,” Peter argued.
“Wait a second,” Tony shot him a glance like he was crazy, “When exactly did- Oh. Oh.” Mr. Stark looked like he just had an epiphany. He stood up and went to the bed, kneeling by the teenager’s side. “Peter,” he said dead serious, “I need you to listen to me very carefully now, okay?” he waited for Peter to nod until he continued, “Whatever you saw, whoever you saw after you left school today wasn’t real. You hear me, kid? It wasn’t real.”
“What do you mean, Mr. Stark? Of course, it was real,” Peter didn’t understand, “Captain Rogers said-”
“No, Pete,” Tony was shaking his head, “When you left school today Thaddeus Ross, the Secretary of State, picked you up. He put you in a simulation, kiddo. Everything that’s happened since, only happened in your head.”
Peter thought about it for a moment, “Am I still in a simulation?” he asked quietly.
“No. You’re safe now. With me,” Tony stated. He had a dangerous spark in his eyes, but something – and it definitely wasn’t his spider sense, which was then oddly silent – told Peter that he had nothing to fear, as if the spark wasn’t meant for him.
They were quiet for a moment, Tony examining Peter with an unreadable expression. Peter was looking back at his mentor, trying to keep eye contact. He badly wanted to ask some questions but that didn’t turn out well the last time.
No, he told himself, that wasn’t real.
Mr. Stark must have noticed his inner struggle, as he furrowed his eyebrows.
“If you need something, kid , don’t be afraid to ask.”
Peter hesitated, but knew this was just Tony. Tony who gave him his suit. Tony who installed a million protocols in order to keep him safe. Tony who always wanted the best for him. Tony who he trusted.
“Where are the Rogue Avengers, Mr. Stark?” Peter whispered, observing as the billionaire’s eyes turn dark. There was a lot of pain in them, hiding a conversation none of them was ready for.
“Nobody knows. The whole world is looking for them,” the man trailed away, tentative for a moment, “You saw them, didn’t you?”
“Y-yeah. They weren’t n-nice,” Peter stammered.
“It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it,” Tony quickly assured, “I just need you to know that whatever Ross made you think they did, none of them would ever do. We may have our differences but they are good people. The best ones.”
“I know they are, Mr. Stark.”
Tony sat down on the bed next to the laying boy, “We are Upstate, in case you were wondering. This would have been your room, but your declined my offer,” he smirked at the boy.
“Wait,” Peter was then also sitting, “So that wasn’t a test?”
“No, kid. But you denying only confirmed that you’re ready. You can stay here with me for a few days if you’d like. I’ve already called your aunt, she’s fine with it. Says you need some time away from the city.”
Peter smiled. He didn’t think Tony cared so much about him to invite a teenager to his home for sleepovers and take up babysitting him, “I’d like that.”
Tony put an arm around his shoulders.
“I’d like that too, kid,” he whispered.